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The 

SCOTTISH  CHIEFS, 
A  ROMANCE. 
Five  Volumes  in  Two 


BY  MISS  JANE  PORTER, 

Author  of  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,  And 
Remarks  on  Sidney's  Aphorisms. 


there  comes  a  voice  that  awakes  my 
soul.   It  is  the  voice  of  years  that 
are  gone;  they  roll  before  me  with 
all  their  deeds.   Ossian 

(From  fee  London  edition  of  1810) 

VOL.  ir. 


Printed  July  1810 


f 


t. 


THE 


1^ 


I 

\         SCOTTISH  CHIEFS, 

A  ROMANCE. 

\.  FIVE  VOLUMES  IN  TWO. 

BY  MISS  JANE  PORTER, 

AUTHOR  OF  TIIADDEUS  OF  WARSAW,  AND  RE3IARKS  0\ 

SIDNEY'S  APH0RIS3IS.  / 


I'here  comes  a  voice  that  a-nakcs  ww  soul.     It  is  the  voice  / J^'^ 
that  are  gone ;  they  roll  before  me  with  all  tlieir  deeds.    ^  ^ ^  '' 

{From  the  London  edition  of  1810/ 

VOL.    II. 


NEW-Y<)idi: 

PUBLISHED    BY    D.    LONGWORTF -^T  THE  SHAXSPEARE   GALLERY. 

t 

And  for  sale  by  D.  Longworth,  E.  SS-igeant,  M.  &  W.  Ward,  &  D.  1).  Anien,  Ne^v- 

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\  ;  Balston;  P.  Potter,  Poughkeepsie ;  M.  Carey,  J.  and  A.  Y.  Huniphreys,  Birch 

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nnd  Co.    Warner  and  Hanna,  E.  F.    Coale,  Baltinioi-e;  R.    C  Wcightnian, 

'    Washington ;    J.   Mjliigan,    Georgetown ;    R,    Gray,    Alexandrin  ;    William 

Prichard,  Fitzwhylson  and  Potter,  L.  Adams,  Richmond  ;  Richard  Cotton,  Pc- 

jtersbiirg;  Bonsall,  Conrad  and  Co.   Norfolk;  S.Hall,  Newbern  ;  V/illiam  P. 

[YouBg,  Charleston ;  P.  D.  Wooliiopter,  and  Seymyur  and  Williams,  Sar^Jiiiiah. 

J^dy  1810. 


•■'Wk 


Slote-lane. 


THE  ( 

V.  a. 


SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 


CHAP.   I. 

As  Wallace  pursued  his  march  along  the  once  fertile 
and  well-peopled  vallies  of  Clydesdale,  he  passed  not 
over  a  track  with  which  he  was  not  well  acquainted  : 
but  their  present  appearance  aflTected  him  like  the  sight 
of  a  friend  whom  he  had  seen  depart  in  all  the  graces 
of  youth  and  prosperity,  and  met  again  overcome  with 
disease  and  wretchedness. 

The  pastures  of  Carstairs  on  the  east  of  the  rjver, 
which  used  at  this  season  to  be  whitened  with  sheep, 
atid  sending  forth  the  grateful  lowings  of  abundant  cat- 
tle ;  and  the  hills  which  had  teemed  with  laborious  rea- 
pers rejoicing  in  the  harvest ;  were  now  laid  waste  and 
silent.  The  plain  presented  one  wide  flat  of  desolation. 
Where  once  was  spread  the  enamelled  meadow,  a 
dreary  swamp  extended  its  vapory  surface  ;  and  the 
road,  which  a  happy  peasantry  no  longer  trod,  lay 
choked  up  with  thistles  and  rank  grass,  while  birds  and 
animals  of  chase  Avould  spring  from  the  surrounding 
thickets  on  the  passing  traveller,  to  tell  him,  by  their 
wildness,  that  he  was  distant  from  the  abode  of  men. 
The  remains  of  villages  were  visible :  but  the  black- 
ness of  ashes  marked  the  walls  of  the  half-ruined 
dwellings. 

Wallace  felt  that  he  was  passing  through  the  country 
in  which  his  iVIarion  had  been  rilled  of  her  life ;  and  as 
he  moved  along,  nature,  all  around,  seemed  to  have 
partaken  her  death.  As  he  rode  over  the  moors  wliicli 
lead  towards  the  district  of  Crawford-Lammington, 
amidst  whose  hills  the  beloved' of  his  soul  first  drev/ 


4  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

her  breath,  he  became  totally  silent.  Time  roiled 
back  ;  he  was  no  longer  the  Regent  of  Scotland,  but 
the  fond  lover  of  Marion  Braidfoot.  His  heart  beat  as 
it  was  wont  to  do  in  turning  his  horse  down  the  defile 
v.-hich  led  direct  to  Lammington  ;  but  the  scene  was 
completely  changed  :  the  groves  in  which  he  had  so 
often  w^andered  with  her,  were  gone  :  they  had  been  cut 
down  for  the  very  purpose  of  burning  the  house  they 
had  once  adorned;  of  destroying  that  place  which  had 
once  been  the  ai)ode  of  beauty  and  innocence  and  of  all 
the  tender  charities. 

One  shattered  tower  C^)  alone  remained  of  the  castle 
of  Lammington.  The  scathing  of  fire  embrownied  its 
sides,  and  the  uprooted  garden  marked  where  the  rava- 
ger  had  been.  While  his  army  marched  before  him 
along  the  heights  of  Crawford,  Wallace  slowly  moved 
on,  and  mused  on  the  scene.  In  turning  the  angle  of 
a  broken-down  wall,  his  horse  started,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment he  perceived,  as  if  the  earth  opened,  and  an  aged 
figure  with  a  beard  as  white  as  snow,  and  wrapped  in  a 
dark  plaid,  appeared  emerging  from  the  ground.  At 
sight  of  the  apparition,  Murray,  who  accompanied  his 
friend,  and  had  hitherto  sympathized  in  silence,  sud- 
denly exclaimed,  "  I  conjure  you,  honest  Scot,  whether 
you  be  ghost  or  man,  to  give  me  a  subject  for  conversa- 
tion !  and  tell  me  to  whom  this  ruined  tower  be- 
longed f" 

Tiie  tongue  of  his  own  country,  and  above  all,  the 
sight  of  two  v/arriors  in  the  Scottish  garb,  encouraged 
the  old  man,  and  stepping  out  on  the  ground,  he  drew 
near  to  Murrtiy.  "  Ruined,  indeed,  sir,"  replied  he, 
"  imd  its  story  is  simple  and  sad.  When  the  South- 
rons who  hold  the  fortresses  in  Annandale,  heard  of  the 
brave  acts  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  they  sent  an  army 
of  men  to  destroy  this  castle  and  domains,  which  were 
his  in  right  of  his  wife,  the  Lady  Marion  of  Lamming- 
ton, whom,  sweet  creature  1  I  hear  they  most  foully 
murdered  in  Lanark." 

Murray  was  struck  speechless  at  this  information  ; 
for  had  he  suspected  that  there  was  any  private  reason 
with  Wallace  for  his  lingering  about  this  desolate  spot> 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  5 

he  wcuM  have  rather  drawn  him  away,  than  have  stop- 
ped to  ask  questions.* 

"  And  did  you  know  the  Lady  Marion,  venerable  old 
man  ?"  inquired  Wallace,  in  a  voice  so  descriptive  of 
what  was  passing  in  his  heart,  that  the  man  turned  to- 
wards him  ;  and  struck  with  his  noble  mien,  he  pulled 
off  his  bonnet,  and  bowing,  answered:  "  Did  I  know 
her?  She  was  nursed  on  these  knees.  And  my  wife, 
who  cherished  her  sweet  infancy,  is  now  within  that 
brae.  This  is  our  only  home  now  ;  for  the  Southrons 
burnt  us  out  of  Lammington-castlc,  where  our  young- 
lady  left  us  to  be  her  stewards  when  she  went  to  Ayr  to 
be  married  to  the  brave  young  lord  with  whom  I  have 
so  often  clambered  these  hills.  He  was  as  handsome  a 
youth  as  ever  the  sun  shone  upon  ;  and  he  loved  my 
lady  from  a  boy.  I  never  shall  forget  the  day  when  she 
stood  on  the  top  of  that  rock,  and  let  a  garland  which 
he  had  just  made  for  her,  fall  into  the  Clyde.  With- 
out more  ado,  never  caring  because  it  is  the  deepest 
here  of  any  part  of  the  river,  he  jumps  in  after  it ;  and 
I  after  him.  And  well  I  did,  for  when  I  caught  him  by 
his  bonnie  g'nvden  locks,  he  was  insensible.  His  head 
had  struck  against  a  stone  in  the  plunge,  and  a  great  cut 
was  over  his  forehead.  God  bless  him,  a  sorry  scar  it 
made  !  but  many,  I  warrant,  he  has  beside  ;  though  I 
have  never  seen  him  since  he  was  a  man. 

Gregory,  the  honest  steward  of  Lammington,  was 
soon  recognised  in  this  old  man's  relation  :  But  time 
and  hardship  had  so  altered  his  appearance,  that  Wal- 
lace could  not  have  recollected  the  ruddy  age  and  ac- 
tive figCire  of  his  well-remembered  companion,  in  the 
shaking  limbs  and  pallid  visage  of  the  hoary  speaker. 
When  the  venerable  narrator  had  ended,  the  chief 
threw  himself  off  his  horse.  He  approached  the  old 
man :  with  one  hand  he  took  off  his  helmet,  and  with 
the  other  putting  back  the  same  golden  locks,  he  said, 
"  Was  the  scar  you  speak  of  any  thing  like  this  ?"  His 
face  was  now  close  to  the  eye  of  Gregory  who,  immedi- 
ately, in  the  action,  the  words,  and  the  mark,  recogni- 
sing the  young  play-mate  of  his  happiest  days,  with  aii 
exclamation  of  joy,  threw  himself  on  his  neck  and  wept ; 
then  looking  up,  with  the  tears  rolling  over  his  cheeks^ 
a2 


G  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

he  exclaimed,  '^  O  Power  of  Mercy,  take  me  now  to 
thyself,  since  my  eyes  have  seen  the  deliverer  of  Scot- 
land?" 

"  Not  so,  my  venerable  friend ;"  returned  Wallace, 
*'  you  must  yet  make  these  desolated  regions  bloom  a- 
new.  Decorate  them,  old  man,  as  you  would  do  the 
tomb  of  your  mistress,  with  every  produce  of  the  year.  I 
give  them  to  you  and  yours.  Marion  and  I  have  no 
posterity!  Let  her  foster-brother,  if  he  still  live,  as 
he  drew  the  same  milk  with  her,  let  him  be  ever  after 
considered  as  the  laird  of  Lamming-ton." 

"  He  does  live,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  but  the 
shadow  of  what  he  was.  In  attemptins^,  with  a  few- 
resolute  lads,  to  defend  these  domains  from  the  ma- 
rauders, he  was  severally  wounded.  His  companions 
were  all  slain,  and  we  found  him  on  the  other  side  of 
my  lady's  summer-house,  left  for  dead.  His  mother, 
and  his  young  wife  and  babes,  fled  with  him  to  the 
woods,  and  there  remained  till  all  about  here  was  laid 
in  ashes.  Finding  the  cruel  Southrons  had  made  a 
general  waste;  yet  fearful  of  fresh  incursions,  should 
any  survivors  appear  above  ground,  we,  and  several  of 
the  adjacejit  villagers  who  had  been  driven  from  their 
homes,  dug  us  these  subterraneous  dwellings  ;^^)  and 
ever  since  have  lived  like  fairies  in  the  green-hill  side. 
?My  son  and  his  family  are  now  in  our  cavern,  much  re- 
duced by  sickness  and  want ;  for  famine  is  here.  Alas, 
the  Southrons  in  conquering  Scotland  have  not  gained 
a  kingdom,  but  made  a  desert !" 

"  And  we  must  make  it  smile  again !"  returned 
Wallace,  "  I  go  to  reap  the  harvests  of  Northumber- 
land. What  our  enemies  have  torn  hence,  in  part  they 
shall  refund  :  a  few  days  and  your  granaries  shall  over- 
flow. Meanwhile,  I  will  leave  with  you  my  friend ;" 
said  he,  turning  to  Murray ;  "  at  the  head  of  five  hun- 
dred men,  he  shall  to-morrow  morning  commence  the 
reduction  of  every  English  fortress  that  yet  stains  with 
its  shadov/  the  waves  of  our  native  Clyde ;  for,  when 
the  sun  next  rises,  the  Southrons  will  have  passed  the 
Scottish  borders,  and  I  shall  again  have  blown  th». 
trumpet  of  war.  He  will  deliver  you  food  from  th» 
stores  of  our  enemiQS  j  and  when  I  return,  I  shall  ex 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  7 

pect  to  see  the  respected  steward  of  Lamniington 
again  within  its  walls ;  in  the  midst  of  its  tenantry 
(which  Lord  Andrew  Murray  will  gather  from  the  ad- 
joining counties)  dispensing  those  comforts  from  that 
now  solitary  tower,  which  must  ever  flow  from  it  as 
the  true  memorial  of  my  Marion's  name  and  virtues  I" 

Gregory,  seeing  that  his  lord  was  going  to  depart, 
fell  at  his  feet,  and  begged  that  he  might  be  allowed  to 
bring  his  Annie  to  see  the  husband  of  her  once  dear 
child. 

"  No ;  not  now,"  replied  Wallace,  "  I  could  not 
bear  the  interview — she  shall  see  me  when  I  return." 

He  then  drew  near  to  Murray,  who  cheerfully  ac- 
quiesced in  his  commission,  as  it  promised  him  not  only 
the  glory  of  being  a  conqueror,  but  would  afford  him 
the  satisfaction  he  hoped  of  driving  the  Southron  gar- 
rison out  of  his  own  paternal  castle.  To  send  such 
news  to  his  noble  father  at  Stirling,  would  indeed  be 
a  wreath  of  honour  to  his  aged,  but  yet  warlike  brow. 
It  was  arranged  between  the  young  chief,  and  his  com- 
mander, that  watching  towers  should  be  thrown  up  on 
every  conspicuous  eminence  throughout  the  country, 
from  the  heights  of  Clydesdale  to  those  which  skirted 
the  Scottish  borders.  From  these,  concerted  signals 
of  victories,  or  certain  sorts  of  information,  were  to  be 
severally  interchanged.  The  sound  of  the  Regent's 
bugle  brought  Ker  and  Sir  John  Graham  to  his  side. 
The  appointed  number  of  men  were  left  with  Murray  ; 
and  Wallace  joining  his  other  chieftains,  bade  his 
friend  and  honest  servant  adieu  I 

He  now  awakened  to  a  sense  of  the  present  scene, 
and  saw  his  legions  traverse  hill  and  dale  till  they  en- 
tered on  the  once  luxuriant  banks  of  the  Annan.  This 
territory  of  some  of  the  proudest  lords  of  Scotland, 
lay  in  more  terrific  ruin  than  even  the  tracts  he  had 
left.  There,  reigned  the  silence  of  the  tomb,  here  ex- 
isted the  expiring  agonies  of  men  left  to  perish.  More 
recent  marks  of  devastation  smoked  from  the  blood- 
stained earth  ;  and  in  the  midst  of  some  barren  waste, 
a  few  houseless  wretches  would  rush  forward  at  the 
-sight  of  the  Regent,  throw  themselves  before  his 
horse,  and  beg  for  food  for  their  famishing  selves  and 


s  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS, 

dying  infants.  "  Look  ;"  cried  an  almost  frantic  mother 
holding  up  the  living  skeleton  of  a  child,  which  hardly 
seemed  to  breathe,  "my  husband  is  slain  by  the  South- 
rons who  hold  Lochmaben-castle ;  my  subsistence  is 
carried  away,  and  myself  turned  out  to  bring  forth  this 
child  on  the  pitiless  rocks.  I  have  fed  there  till  this 
hour  on  the  berries ;  but  I  die,  and  my  child  expires 
before  me  1"  "  Here  are  our  young  ones,"  cried  an- 
ther woman  with  shrieks  of  despair,  "  exposed  to  equal 
miseries.  Give  us  bread,  Regent  of  Scotland,  or  we 
perish  1" 

"  Fast  for  a  day,  my  brave  friends,"  cried  Wallace, 
turning  animatedly  towards  his  troops,  "  lay  all  the 
provision  you  have  brought  Avith  you,  before  these  hap- 
less people.  To-morrow  you  shall  feast  largely  on 
Southron  tables." 

Wallace  was  instantly  obeyed.  As  his  men  march- 
ed on  they  threw  their  loaded  wallets  amongst  the 
famishing  groups;  and  followed  by  their  blessings,  de- 
scended with  augmented  speed  the  ravaged  hills  of 
Annandale.  The  grey  dawn  was  tinging  the  dark  head 
of  Brunswark,  as  they  advanced  towards  the  Scottish 
boundary.  At  a  distance,  like  a  wreath  of  white  va- 
pours, lay  the  English  camp  along  the  southern  bank 
of  the  Esk.  Wallace  at  this  sight  ordered  his  bugles 
to  sound ;  and  they  were  immediately  answered  by 
those  of  the  opposite  host.  The  heralds  of  both  armies 
advanced;  and  the  sun  rising  from  behind  the  eastern 
screen  of  hills,  shone  full  upon  the  legions  of  Scot- 
land now  winding  down  the  romantic  precipices  of 
Wauchope. 

Less  than  two  hours  arranged  every  preliminary  re- 
quisite to  the  exchange  of  prisoners  ;  and  when  the 
clarion  of  the  trumpet  announced  that  each  party  were 
to  pass  over  the  river  to  the  side  of  its   respective 
country.     Wallace  stood  in  the  midst  of  his  chieftains  J 
to  receive  the  last  adieus  of  his  illustrious  captives./ 
When  de  Warenne  approached,  the  Regent  took  offj 
his  helmet.     The  Southron  had  already  his  in  his  hant 
"  Farewell,  gallant  Scot:"  said  he,  "  if  ought  could  im, 
bitter  this  moinent  of  recovered  freedom,  it  is,  that 
leave  a  man   I  so  revere,  still  confident  in  a  finallj 
hopeless  cause!'* 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  9 

*^'  It  would  not  be  the  less  just,  were  it  indeed  des- 
perate," replied  Wallace,  "  but  had  not  heaven  shewn 
on  which  side  it  fought,  I  should  not  have  had  the  hon- 
our of  thus  bidding  the  brave  Earl  dc  Warenne  fare- 
well." 

De  Warenne  passed  on ;  and  the  other  lords,  with 
grateful  and  respectful  looks,  paid  their  obeisance. 
The  litter  of  Montgomery  drew  near :  the  curtains 
were  thrown  open  :  Wallace  stretched  out  his  hand  to 
him  ;  '^  The  prayers  of  sainted  innocence  are  for  ever 
thine  1" 

"  Never  more  shall  her  angel  spirit  behold  me  here, 
as  you  now  behold  me,"  returned  Montgomery : 
"  I  must  be  a  traitor  to  virtue  before  I  ever  again  bear 
arms  against  Sir  William  Wallace."  Wallace  pressed 
his  hand,  and  they  parted. 

The  escort  which  guarded  De  Valence  advanced ; 
and  the  proud  Earl  seeing  where  his  enemy  stood, 
took  off*  his  gauntlet,  and  throwing  it  fiercely  towards 
him,  exclaimed,  "  Carry  that  to  your  minion  Ruthven, 
and  tell  him,  that  the  hand  which  wore  it  will  yet  be 
most  tremendously  revenged  1" 

As  the  Southron  ranks  filed  off  towards  Carlisle, 
those  of  the  returning  Scottish  prisoners  approached 
their  deliverer.  Now  it  was  that  the  full  clangor  of 
joy  burst  from  every  breast  and  triumph-breathing  in- 
strument in  the  Scottish  legions;  now  it  was  that  the 
echoes  rang  with  loud  huzzas  of  "Long  live  the  valiant 
Wallace,  who  brings  our  nobles  out  of  captivity  I  Long- 
live  our  matchless  Regent  1" 

As  these  shouts  rent  the  air,  the  Lords  Badenoch 
and  Athol  drew  near.  The  princely  head  of  the  for- 
mer  bent  with  proud  acknov/iedgment  to  the  mild  dip^- 
nity  of  Wallace.  Badenoch's  penetrating  eye  in  a 
moment  saw  that  it  was  indeed  the  patriotic  guardian 
of  his  country,  to  whom  he  bowed,  and  not  the  \ain 
uff'ecter  of  regal  power.  At  his  approach,  Waiiuce 
'^lighted  from  his  horse,  and  received  his  offered  hand 
.nd  thanks  with  every  grace  inherent  in  his  noble  na- 
ture ;  "  I  am  happy,"  returned  he,  "  to  have  been  the 
instrument  of  recalling  t©  his  country  one  of  the 
princes  of  the  royal  blood,"  '  <•  And  while  one  drop  of 


10  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

it  exists  in  Scotland,"  replied  Badenoch,  "  its  posses- 
sor must  acknowledge  the  bravest  of  our  defenders  in 
Sir  William  Wallace." 

Athol  next  advanced ;  but  his  gloomy  countenance 
contradicted  his  words,  when  he  attempted  to  utter  a 
similar  sense  of  obligation.  Sir  John  Monteith  was 
eloquent  in  his  thanks.  And  Sir  William  Maitland, 
the  only  surviving  son  of  the  knight  of  Thirlestane, 
was  not  less  sincere  in  his  professions  of  gratitude, 
than  Wallace  was  in  his  pleasure  at  having  given  liber- 
ty to  so  near  a  relation  of  Helen  Mar.  The  rest  of 
the  captive  Scots,  to  the  number  of  several  hundreds, 
were  ready  to  kiss  the  feet  of  the  man  who  restored 
them  to  their  honours,  their  country,  and  their  friends  : 
and  Wallace  bowed  his  happy  head  under  a  shower  of 
blessings,  which  poured  on  him  from  a  thousand  grate- 
ful hearts. 

In  pity  to  the  wearied  travellers,  he  ordered  tents  to 
be  pitched ;  dispatching  a  detachment  of  men  to  the 
top  of  Langholm  hill,  to  send  forth  a  smoke,(<^)  in  token 
to  the  Clydesdale  watch,  of  the  armistice  being  at  an 
end.  He  had  hardly  seen  them  ascend  the  mountain, 
when  Graham  arrived  from  reconnoitring ;  and  told 
him,  that  an  English  army  of  great  strength  had  form- 
ed behind  his  camp,  and  where  now  wheeling  round  by 
the  foot  of  the  hills  to  take  the  reposing  Scots  by  sur- 
prise. 

"  They  shall  find  us  ready  to  receive  them,"  was  the 
prompt  reply  of  Wallace  :  And  his  actions  were  ever 
the  companions  of  his  words.  Leaving  his  harassed 
friends  vmder  a  sufficient  guard  to  rest  on  the  banks  of 
the  Esk,  he  put  himself  at  the  head  of  5000  men,  and 
sending  a  thousand  more  with  Sir  John  Graham  to  pass 
over  the  Cheviots  and  attack  the  Southrons  in  flank 
when  he  should  give  the  signal,  he  marched  swiftly 
forward ;  and  fell  in  with  some  advanced  squadrons  of 
the  enemy  amongst  the  recesses  of  those  hills.  Little 
expecting  such  a  rencontre,  they  were  marching  in 
defiles  upon  the  ridgy  craigs,  taking  every  precaution 
to  avoid  the  swamps  v/hich  occupied  the  broader  way. 

At  sight  of  the  Scots,  Lord  Percy,  who  commanded 
the  Southron  army,   ordered  a  party  of  archers  who 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  Ih 

were  clambering  round  by  the  projecting  cliffs,  to  dis- 
charge their  arrows.  The  artillery  of  war  being  thus 
opened  afresh,  Wallace  drew  his  bright  sword,  and 
waving  it  before  him  like  a  meteor  of  night,  called 
aloud  to  his  followers  ;  his  inspiring  voice  echoed  from 
hill  to  hill,  and  the  higher  detachments  of  the  Scots 
pouring  down  upon  the  unprepared  archers  with  the 
resistless  impetuosity  of  their  own  mountain  streams, 
precipitated  their  enemies  into  the  valley ;  while  Wal- 
lace with  his  pikemen  charging  the  horse  in  those 
slippery  paths,  drove  the  terrified  animals  into  the 
morasses,  where  some  sunk  at  once,  and  others  plung- 
ing, threw  their  riders  to  perish  in  the  swamp. 

Lord  Percy,  desperate  at  the  confusion  which  now 
ensued,  as  his  archers  fell  headlong  from  the  rocks, 
and  his  cavalry  lay  drowning  before  him,  called  up  his 
infantry: — They  appeared  ;  but  though  ten  thousand 
strong,  the  determined  Scots  met  their  first  ranks 
breast  to  breast,  and  soon  levelling  them  with  their 
companions,  rushed  on  the  rest  with  the  force  of  a 
thunder-storm.  It  was  at  this  period  that  the  signal 
was  given  from  the  horn  of  Wallace  ;  and  the  division 
of  Graham  meeting  the  retreating  Southrons  as  they 
attempted  to  fall  back  behind  the  hill,  completed  their 
defeat.  The  slaughter  became  dreadful,  the  victory 
decisive.  Sir  Ralph  Latimer,  the  second  in  command, 
"was  killed  in  the  first  onset ;  and  Lord  Percy  himself, 
after  fighting  like  a  lion,  and  being  covered  with 
wounds,  sought  safety  in  flight. 


CHAP.  II. 

1  HIS  being  the  season  of  harvest  in  the  northern 
counties  of  England,  Wallace  carried  his  reapers,  not 
to  lay  their  sickles  to  the  field,  but  with  their  swords  to 
open  themselves  away  into  the  Southron  granaries. 

Wallace,  meanwhile,  provided  for  the  wants  of  his 
friends  on  the  other  side  of  the  Esk.  The  plunder  of 
Percy's  camp  was  dispatched  to  them;  which  being 
abundant  in  all  kiuds  of  provisions,  was  sufUcient  to 


12  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

keep  them  in  ample  store  till  they  could  reach  Stirring. 
From  that  point,  tliey  had  promised  their  Regent,  they 
would  disperse  to  their  separate  estates,  collect  recruits, 
and  reduce  the  distracted  state  of  the  country  into  some 
composed  order.  Wallace  had  disclosed  his  wish, 
and  mode  of  effecting  this  renovation  of  public  happi- 
ness, before  he  left  Stirling  It  contained  a  plan  of 
military  organization,  by  which  each  youth,  able  to 
bear  arms,  should  not  only  be  instructed  in  the  dexter- 
ous use  of  the  weapons  of  war,  but  in  the  duties  of  sub- 
ordination ;  and,  above  all,  in  the  nature  of  those  rights 
for  which  he  was  now  contending. 

"  They  only  require  being  thoroughly  known,  to  be 
regarded  as  inestimable,"  added  he  :  "  But  while  we 
raise  around  us  the  best  bulwark  of  any  nation,  a  brave 
and  well-disciplined  people,  while  we  teach  them  to 
defend  their  liberties,  let  us  see  that  they  deserve 
them.  Let  them  be  men  contending  for  virtuous  in- 
dependence, not  savages  fighting  for  licentious  free- 
dom. We  must  have  our  youth  of  both  sexes,  in  towns 
and  villages,  from  the  castle  to  the  cot,  taught  the  sub- 
lime truths  of  Christianity.  From  that  root  will  branch 
all  that  is  needful  to  make  them  useful  members  of  the 
state,  virtuous  and  happy. — And  while  war  is  in  our 
hands,  let  us  in  all  things  prepare  for  peace ;  that  the 
sword  may  gently  bend  into  the  sickle,  the  dagger  to 
the  pruning-hook." 

There  was  an  expansive  providence  in  all  this,  a  con- 
centrating plan  of  public  weal,  which  few  of  the  nobles 
had  ever  even  glanced  at,  as  a  design  conceivable  for 
Scotland. 

"  Ah  1  my  lords,"  replied  he  to  their  warlike  objec- 
tions, "  deceive  not  yourselves  with  the  belief,  that  by 
the  mere  force  of  arms  a  nation  can  render  itself  great 
and  secure.  Industry,  temperance,  and  discipline, 
amongst  the  people,  with  moderation  and  justice  in  the 
higher  orders,  are  the  only  aliments  of  independence. 
They  bring  you  riches  and  power;  they  make  it  the 
interest  of  those  who  might  have  been  your  enemies, 
to  court  youi"  friendship." 

The  council  at  Stirling  had  received  his  plan  with 
enthusiasm.     And  when,  on  the  day  of  his  parting  with 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHlErS.  13 

the  relearjcd  cliicftains  on  the  banks  of  the  Ebk,  he, 
with  all  the  generous  modesty  of  his  nature,  rather 
submitted  his  design  to  them  as  if  to  obtain  the  appro- 
bation of  friends,  than  to  enforce  it  with  the  authority 
of  a  Regent;  when  they  saw  him  thus  coming  down 
from  the  dictatorship  to  wliich  his  unrivalled  talents 
had  raised  him,  to  equal  himself  still  with  them,  all 
were  struck  with  admiration ;  and  Lord  Badenoch  could 
not  but  say  to  himself — "  The  royal  qualities  of  this 
man  can  well  afford  this  expense  of  humility.  Bend  as 
he  will,  he  has  only  to  speak,  to  shew  his  superiority 
over  all,  and  to  be  a  king  again.'* 

There  was  a  power  in  the  unostentatious  virtues  oi 
Wallace,  which,  declaring  themselves  rather  in  their 
effects,  than  by  display,  subdued  the  princely  spirit  of 
Badenoch  even  to  his  smile  ;  and  while  the  proud  chief- 
tain recollected  how  he  had  contemned  the  pretensions 
of  Bruce,  and  could  not  brook  the  elevation  of  B^iliolj 
how  his  soul  was  in  arms,  when,  after  he  had  been  per- 
suaded to  acknowledge  the  supremacy  of  Edward,  the 
throne  was  given  to  one  of  his  rivals;  he  wondered  at 
himself  to  find  that  his  very  heart  bowed  before  the 
gentle  and  comprehensive  wisdom  of  an  untitled  Re- 
gent. 

Athol,  alone  of  the  group,  seemed  insensible  to  the 
benefits  his  country  was  receiving  from  its  resistless 
protector;  but  he  expressed  his  dissent  from  the  gene- 
ral sentiment  with  no  more  visible  sign  than  a  cold  si- 
lence. 

When  the  messenger  of  Wallace  arrived  on  the 
banks  of  the  Esk  with  so  large  a  booty,  and  the  news 
of  his  complete  victory  over  the  gallant  Percy,  the  ex- 
ultation of  his  chieftains  amounted  to  such  enthusiasm, 
that  had  their  Regent  been  then  present,  he  might 
again  have  fv^und  his  moderation  put  to  the  test  of  re- 
fusing a  crown. 

On  Badenoch  opening  Wallace's  dispatches,  he  found 
that  they  repeated  his  wish  that  the  nobles  would  im- 
^nediately  proceed  to  the  execution  of  the  plan  they 
had  sanctioned  with  their  approbation:  They  were  to 
march  directly  for  Stirling,  and  in  their  way  dispense 
the  super-abuudance  of  the  plunder  amongst  the  per- 

VOL.  II.  B 


14  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

ishing  inhabitants  of  the  land.  He  then  informed  the 
Earl,  that  while  the  guard  he  had  left  with  him,  should 
escort  the  liberated  Scots  beyond  the  Forth,  the  rest  of 
his  little  army  south  of  that  river,  must  be  thus  dis- 
posed. Lord  Andrew  Murray  was  to  remain  chief  in 
command  in  Clydesdale,  while  Sir  Eustace  Maxwell 
should  give  up  the  wardship  of  Douglas  to  Sir  John 
Monteith,  and  himself  advance  into  Annandale  to  assist 
Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick,  who  must  now  have  began  the 
reduction  of  the  castles  in  the  west  of  that  province. 
At  the  close  of  these  directions,  Wallace  added,  that 
he  was  now  going  to  sweep  the  English  counties  to  the 
Tees  mouth ;  and  that  he  should  send  the  produce 
round  by  his  fleets  from  Berwick,  to  reple-nish  the  ex- 
hausted stores  of  the  Highlands.  "  Next  year,"  con- 
tinued he,  "  I  trust  they  will  have  ample  harvests  of 
their  own." 

And  what  Wallace  said  he  w^ould  do,  he  did. 

The  country  was  panic-struck  at  the  defeat  of  Per- 
cy ;  and  his  beaten  soldiers,  flying  in  all  directions  be- 
fore their  conqueror's  legions,  gave  such  dreadful  and 
hyperbolical  accounts  of  their  might,  and  of  the  giant 
prowess  of  their  leader,  that  as  soon  as  ever  the  glit- 
tering of  the  Scottish  spears  were  seen  rising  the  sum- 
mit of  any  hill,  or  even  gleaming  at  a  distance  along 
the  horizon,  every  village  was  deserted,  every  solitary 
cot  w^as  left  \vithout  inhabitant ;  and  corn  and  cattle,  and 
every  kind  of  property,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Scots. 

Lord  Percy  lay  immovable  with  wounds,  in  his  cas- 
tle at  Alnwick;  and  his  hopeless  state,  by  intimidating 
his  followers,  contradicted  the  orders  he  gave  to  ft\cc 
the  marauding  enemy.  Several  times  they  attempted 
to  obey,  but  as  often  shewed  their  inability ;  they  col- 
lected under  arms,  but  the  moment  their  foe  appeared, 
they  fled  within  the  castle-wails,  or  buried  themselves 
in  deep  obscurities  amongst  the  surrounding  hills. 
Not  a  sheaf  in  the  fields  of  Northumberland  did  the 
Scots  leave  to  make  a  cuke  for  its  Earl's  breakfast,  not 
a  head  of  cattle  to  smoke  upon  his  board.  The  country 
was  sacked  from  sea  to  sea.  But  far  different  was  its 
appearance  from  that  of  the  ravaged  vallies  of  Scot- 
land :  There  the  fire  had  burnt  up  the  soil ;  the  hand 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  15 

of  violence  had  levelled  the  husbandman's  cottage, 
Iiad  buried  his  implements  in  the  ruins,  had  sacrificed 
himself  on  its  smoking  ashes  !  There  the  fatherless 
l)abe  Avept  its  unavailing  wants;  and  at  its  side  sat  the 
(iistracted  widow,  wringing  her  hands  in  speechless 
misery  ;  for  there  lay  her  murdered  husband,  here  her 
perishing  child  ! 

With  such  sights  was  the  heart  of  Wallace  pierced, 
as  he  passed  through  the  Lov.huid  coumles  of  his 
country;  nay,  as  he  scoured  the  Highland  districts  of 
the  Grampians,  even  there  had  he  met  the  foot  of  bar- 
barian man  and  cruel  desolation.  Fdr  thus  it  was  that 
the  Southron  garrisons  had  provisoned  thems^elves.— 
By  robbing  the  poor  of  their  bread  ;  and  when  they  re- 
sisted, firing  their  dwellings,  and  punishing  the  refrac- 
tory with  death. 

But  not  so  the  generous  enmity  of  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace. His  commission  was  not  to  destroy,  but  to  save; 
and  though  he  carried  his  victorious  army  to  feed  on 
the  Southron  plains,  and  sent  the  iiarvests  of  England 
to  restore  the  trampled  fields  of  Scotland,  yet  lie  did  no 
more.  No  fire  blasted  his  path  ;  no  innocent  blood  cri- 
ed against  him,  from  the  g;round  ! — When  the  impetu- 
ous zeal  of  his  soidiers>  flushed  with  victory,  and  in  the 
heat  of  vengeance,  would  have  laid  several  hamlets  in 
ashes,  he  seized  the  brand  from  the  ringleader  of  the 
destroying  party,  and  throwing  it  into  an  adjoining 
brook  ;  "  Shew  yourselves  worthy  of  the  advantages  yo-u 
have  gained,"  cried  he,  "  by  the  moderation  with  which 
you  use  them.  Consider  yourselves  as  the  soldiers  of 
the  All-powerful  God,  who  alone  has  conducted  you  to 
victory ;  for,  with  a  few,  has  he  not  enabled  us  to  sub- 
due a  host? — Behave  as  becomes  your  high  destiny; 
and  debase  not  yourselves  by  imitating  tlie  hirelings  of 
ambition,  who  receive  as  the  wages  of  their  valour,  the 
base  privileges  to  ravage  and  to  murder. 

"  I  wish  you  to  distinguish  between  a  spirit  of  repri- 
sal in  what  I  do,  and  that  of  retaliation,  which  actuates 
your  present  violence.  What  our  enemies  have  robbed 
us  of,  as  far  as  they  can  restore,  1  take  again.  Their 
bread  shall  feed  our  famishing  country;  their  wool 
clothe  its  nakedness.     But  blood  for  blood,  unless  the 


/-J 


16  THE  StK)TTISH  CHIEFS. 

iTiurderer  could  be  made  to  bleed,  is  a  doctrince  ablToi-' 
rent  to  God  and  to  liQinanity.  What  justice  is  there  in 
destroying  the  habitations  and  lives  of  a  set  of  harmless 
people,  because  the  like  cruelty  has  been  committed  by 
a  lawless  army  of  their  countrym-en,  upon  our  unoffen- 
ding brethren  ?  Your  hearts  may  make  the  answer.  But 
if  they  are  hardened  against  the  pleadings  of  humanity, 
let  prudence  shew  your  interest  in  leaving  those  men 
alive,  and  with  their  means  unimpaired,  v/ho  will  pro- 
duce other  harvests,  to  again,  if  need  be,  fill  our  scanti- 
er granaries. 

"  Thus  I  reason  with  you,  and  I  hope  many  are  con- 
vinced: But  they  who  are  insei;!siblc  to  argument,  must 
fear  authority ;  and  I  declare  that  every  man  who  in- 
flicts injury  on  the  houses,  or  on  the  persons  of  the 
quiet  peasantry  of  this  land,  shall  be  punished  as  a  trai- 
tor to  the  state.'* 

According  to  the  different  dispositions  of  men,  tliis 
reasoning  prevailed.  And  from  the  end  of  September, 
the  time  when  Wallace  first  entered  Northumberland, 
to  the  month  of  November,  when,  having  scoured  the 
counties  of  England,  even  to  the  very  gates  of  York, 
he  returned  to  Scotland,  not  an  offence  was  committed, 
at  which  his  merciful  spirit  could  repiiie.  It  was  on  All- 
Saints  day,  when  he  again  approached  the  Esk  ;  and  so 
great  was  his  spoil,  that  his  return  seemed  more  like 
some  vast  caravan,  moving  the  merchandise  of  half  the 
world,  than  the  march  of  an  army  which  had  so  lately 
passcvl  that  river,  a  famishing,  though  valorous  host. 

The  outposts  of  Carlaverock  soon  informed  Maxwell, 
its  present  occupier,  that  the  Lord  Regent  was  in  sight. 
At  the  joyful  intelligence,  a  double  smoke  stream-ed 
from  every  watch-hill  in  Annandalc  ;  and  Sir  Eustace 
had  hardly  appeared  on  the  Solway-bank  to  meet  his 
triumphant  chief,  when  the  eager  speed  of  the  rough 
Lord  of  Torthoraid,  brought  him  there  also.  Wallace, 
as  his  proud  charger  plunged  into  the  ford,  and  the 
heavy  waggons,  groaning  under  their  load,  creeked  af- 
ter him,  was  welcomed  to  the  shore  by  the  shouts  not 
only  of  the  soldiers  which  had  followed  Maxv/ell  and 
Kirkpatrick,  but  by  the  people,  who  in  crowds,  of  men, 
women,  and  children,  came  in  throngs  to  hail  their  pre- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  IT 

server.  The  squalid  hue  of  famine  had  left  every  face  : 
and  each  smiling  countenance,  beaming  with  health,  se- 
curity, and  gratitude,  told  Wallace,  more  emphatically 
than  a  thousand  tongues,  tlie  wisdom  of  the  means  he 
had  used  to  regenerate  his  lost  country. 

IVlaxwell  had  prepared  the  fortress  o-f  Lochmaben, 
once  the  principal  castle  of  the  Bruce's  in  Annandalc, 
for  the  reception  of  the  Regent.  And  thither  Wallace 
was  conducted  in  prouder  triumph  than  ever  followed 
the  chariot  wheels  of  Cscsar.  Blessings  were  the  cla- 
rions that  preceded  him  ;  and  hosts  of  people  whom  he 
had  saved  when  ready  to  perish,  were  the  voluntary  ac- 
tors in  his  pageant. 

Wlien  he  arrived  in  sight  of  the  two  capacious  lochs, 
which  spread  like  lucid  wings  on  each  side  of  thi'^^' 
princely  residence,  he  turned  to  Graham,  "  What  pi- 
ty," said  he,  "  that  the  rightful  owner  of  this  truly  re- 
ga:l  castle  docs  not  act  as  becomes  his  blood  !  He  might 
now  be  entering  its  gates  as  a  king,  and  so  Scolla.nd  the 
sooner  find  rest  under  its  lawful  monarch." 

"  But  he  prefers  i^eing  a  parasite  in  the  court  of  a 
tyrant;"  replied  Sir  John,  "  and  from  such  a  school^ 
Scotland  would  reject  a  monarch." 

"  But  he  has  a  son  ;"  replied  Wallace,  "  a  brave  and 
generous  son  ; — I  am  told  by  Lord  ^Montgomery,  who 
knew  him  in  Guienne,  that  a  nobler  spirit  does  not  ex- 
ist. On  his  brows,  my  dear  Graham,  we  must  one  day 
hope  to  see  the  crovvU." 

"  Then  only  as  your  heir,  my  Lord  Regent,"  inter- 
rupted Maxwell,  "  for  while  you  live,  I  can  answer  for 
it  that  no  Scot  will  acknowledge  any  other  ruler." 

"  I  will  fvrsteat  my  own  sword,"  cried  Kirkpatrick. 

At  this  moment,  the  lofty  portcullis  of  the  great  gate 
was  raised,  and  Maxwell  falling  back  to  make  way  for 
the  Regent,  Wallace  had  not  time  to  answer  a  senti- 
ment, Avhich  indeed  was  now  so  familiar  to  him,  by  his 
hearing  it  from  every  grateful  heart,  that  he  now  hardly 
remarked  its  tendency,  as  it  made  no  ambition-springing 
impression  on  his  well-principled  mind. 

Ever  pressing  towards  establishing  the  comfort  and 
happiness  of  liis  country,  he  hastened  over  the  splendid 
repast  that  was  prepared  for  him;  and  dispersing  ae 
B  2 


18  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

fast  as  possible  the  ceremonials  with  which  the  zeal  of 
Maxwell  sought  to  display  his  rcbpect  for  the  virtues 
and  station  of  his  commander,  he  retired  with  Graham 
to  make  up  dispatches  for  his  n  ore  distant  chieftains  ; 
and  to  divide  and  aportion  the  spoil,  to  the  necessities 
of  the  different  provinces.  In  these  duties  his  wakeful 
eyes  were  kept  open  the  greatest  part  of  the  night. 
They  for  wdiom  he  laboured,  slept  securely  I  That 
thought  was  rest  to  him.  But  they  closed  not  their 
eyes  without  praying  for  the  sweet  repose  of  their  ben- 
efactor. And  he  found  it ;  not  in  sleep,  but  Iq  that 
peace  of  heart  which  the  world  cannot  give. 


CHAP.  III. 

JL)AY  after  day  succeeded  each  other  in  the  execrtioii 
of  his  beneficial  designs. — The  royal  halls  of  Lochma- 
ben  did  not  long  detain  him,  who  knew  no  rest  but  when 
he  was  going  about  doing  good. — While  he  was  thus 
employed,  raising,  with  the  quickness  of  magic,  by  the 
rmany-working  hands  of  his  soldiers,  the  lately  ruined 
hamlets,  into  well-built  villages  ;  while  the  grey  smoke 
curled  from  a  thousand  russet  cottages  which  now 
-spotted  the  sides  of  the  snow-clad  hills  ;  v/hiie  all  the 
Lowlands,  whithersoever  Wallace  directed  his  steps, 
breathed  of  comfort  atid  abundance;  he  felt  like  the 
father  of  a  large  family  in  the  midst  of  a  happy  and  vast 
home,  where  every  eye  turned  on  him  with  reverence, 
every  lip  with  gratitude. 

He  had  hardly  gone  the  circuit  of  these  now  cheer- 
ful valleys,  when  an  embassy  from  England,  which  had 
first  touched  at  Lochmaben,  overtook  him  at  the  tovv'er 
of  Larwnington.  The  embassadors  were  Robert  Lord 
De  Lisle,  the  brother  of  Earl  De  Warenne,  and  An.- 
thony  Beck,  Bishop  of  Durham. 

At  the  moment  their  splendid  cavalcade,  escorted  by 
a  party  from  Sir  Eustace  Maxwell,  entered  the  gate  of 
Lam.mington,  Wallace  was  in  the  hourly  expectation 
of  Edwin,  for  whom  he  had  sent ;  and  hearing  the 
trampling  of  horses,  lie  hastened  fortl>  into  the  courr- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS,  19 

yard,  attended  by  a  group  of  Gregory's  grand-children. 
One  was  in  his  arms,  two  others  held  by  the  corners  of 
his  plaid,  and  a  third  rode  before  him  on  the  sword 
which  he  had  unbuckled  from  his  side.  It  was  a  clear 
frosty  day  ;  and  the  keenness  of  the  air  brightened  the 
complexion  of  Wallace,  and  deepened  the  roses  of  his 
infant  companions.  The  leader  of  the  Scottish  escort 
immediately  proclaimed  to  the  embassadors  that  this 
was  the  Regent.  At  sight  of  so  uncourtly  a  scene,  the 
haughty  prelate  of  Durham  drew  back. 

"  This  man  will  not  understand  his  own  interest  1" 
said  he  in  a  disdainful  whisper  to  Delisle. 

"  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  his  estimation  of  it  will 
be  rather  beyond  ours."  As  Lord  De  Lisle  made  this 
reply,  the  officer  of  Maxwell  informed  Wallace  who 
were  the  illustrious  strangers.  At  the  mention  of  a 
Southron,  the  elder  children  ran  screaming  into  the 
house ;  leaving  the  youngest,  who  continued  nestling 
Jier  face  into  the  breast  of  Wallace,  as  the  bishop  drew 
liear. 

"  We  come.  Sir  Willam  Wallace,"  said  the  prelate, 
in  a  tone  whose  lordly  sound  was  somewhat  lowered 
when  his  eye  was  surprised  by  the  god-like  dignity 
■which  shone  over  the  countenance  of  the  man  whose 
domestic  appearance  had  at  first  excited  his  contempt; 
•*'  we  come  from  the  King  of  England  with  a  message 
for  your  private  ear." — "  And  I  hope,  gallant  chief- 
tain," joined  Lord  De  Lisle,  "  that  Avhat  we  have  to 
impart  will  give  peace  to  both  nations ;  and  establish 
in  honour  the  most  generous  as  well  as  the  bravest  of 
men?" 

Wallace  bowed  to  the  compliment  of  De  Lisle, 
(whom  he  knew,  by  his  title,  must  be  the  brother  of 
De  Warenne ;)  and  resigning  the  child  into  the  arms 
of  his  friend  Graham,  with  a  graceful  welcome  he 
conducted  the  Southron  lords  into  the  grand  hall. 

De  Lisle,  looking  round,  said,  "  Are  we  alone.  Sir 
William  ?" 

"  Perfectly ;"  he  replied,  "  and  I  am  ready  to  receive 
any  proposals  of  peace  which  the  rights  of  Scotland 
will  allow  me  to  accept." 

De  Lisle  drew  from  his  bosom  a  gold  casket,  and 


2G  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

laying  it  on  a  table  before  him,  he  addressed  the  Regent. 
"  Sir  WiUiam  Wallace,  I  come  to  you  not  with  the  de- 
nunciations of  an  implacable  liege  lord,  whom  a  rash  vas- 
sal has  offended  ;  but  in  the  grace  of  the  most  generous 
of  monarchs,  who  is  anxious  to  convert  a  brave  insur- 
gent into  a  loyal  friend.  My  lord  the  king,  having  heard 
by  letters  from  my  brother  the  Earl  De  Warenne,  of 
the  honourable  manner  in  which  you  treated  the  English 
whom  the  fate  of  battle  threw  into  your  power;  instead 
of  sending  over  from  Flanders  a  mighty  army  to 
overwhelm  this  rebellious  kingdom; — has  deputed 
ed  me,  even  as  an  embassador,  to  reason  with  the  rash- 
ness he  is  ready  to  pardon.  And  with  this  diadem,'* 
continued  he,  drawing  a  circlet  of  jewels  from  the 
casket,  "  v/hich  he  tore  from  the  brows  of  a  Saracen 
prince  on  the  ramparts  of  Acre,  he  sends  the  assur- 
ances of  his  regard  for  the  heroic  virtues  of  his  enemy. 
And  to  these  jewels,  he  commands  me  to  say,  that  he 
will  add  a  more  efficient  crown,  if  Sir  William  Wallace 
will  awake  from  this  trance  of  false  enthusiasm,  and  ac- 
knowledge, as  he  is  in  duty  bound  to  do,  the  supre- 
macy of  England  over  this  country. — -Speak  but  the 
word,  noblest  of  Scots,"  added  he,  "  and  the  Bishop  of 
Durham  has  orders  from  the  generous  Edward,  immedi- 
ately to  anoint  you  as  King  of  Scotland ; — that  done, 
my  royal  master  w'ould  support  you  in  your  throne, 
against  every  man  who  sould  dare  to  dispute  your  au- 
thority." 

At  these  words  Wallace  rose  from  his  seat. — "  My 
lord,"  said  he,  "  since  I  took  up  arms  for  injured  Scot- 
land, I  have  been  used  to  look  into  the  hearts  of  men  ; 
I  therefore  estimate  with  every  due  respect  the  com- 
pliment which  this  message  of  your  King  pays  to  my  vir- 
tues. Had  he  thought  that  I  deserved  the  confidence  of 
Scotland  he  would  not  have  insulted  me  with  offering 
a  price  for  my  allegiance. — To  be  even  a  crowned  vas- 
sal of  King  Edward,  is  far  beneath  my  ambition. — 
Take  back  then  the  Saracen's  diadem :  It  shall  never 
dishonour  the  brows  of  him  who  has  sworn  by  the  cross, 
to  maintain  the  independence  of  Scotland,  or  to  lay 
down  his  life  in  the  attempt." 

"  Weigh  well,  brave  sir,"  resumed  the  Earl,  "  the 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEPS.  2i- 

consequences  of  this  answer  to  Edward.  He  will  soon 
be  in  England  :  and  not  at  the  head  of  such  armies  as 
you  have  discomfited,  but  with  countless  legions ;  and 
when  he  falls  upon  any  country  in  indignation,  tlic 
places,  of  its  cities  are  known  no  more." 

"  Better  for  a  brave  people  so  to  perish,"  replied 
Wallace,  '"  than  to  exist  in  dishonour." 

"  What  dishonour,  noble  Scot,  can  accrue  from  ac- 
knowledging the  supremacy  of  your  liege  lord  ?  or  to 
what  can  the  proudest  ambition  in  Scotland  extend,  be- 
yond that  of  posscssiiicc  its  throne  r" 

"  I  am  not  such  a  slave  as  to  prefer  what  men  might 
call  aggrandizement,  before  the  higher  destiny  of  pre- 
serving to  my  country  its  liberties  untrammelled.— 
To  be  the  guardian  of  lier  freedom,  and  of  the  indivi- 
dual rights  of  every  uian  born  in  Scottish  ground,  is 
my  ambition,  ill  should  I  perform  the  one  duty,  were 
I  to  wrong  the  posterity  of  Alexander  by  invading 
their  throne;  and  horrible  would  be  my  treason  against 
the  other,  could  I  sell  my  confiding  country  for  a  name 
and  a  bauble,  into  the  grasp  of  an  usurper  !" 

"  Brand  not  with  so  unjust  an  epithet,  the  gene- 
rous Edward!"  interrupted  De  Lisle;  "let  your  own 
noble  nature  be  a  witness  of  his.  Put  from  you  all  the 
prejudices  which  the  ill-conduct  of  his  officers  have 
excited;  and  you  must  perceive  that  in  accepting  his 
terms  you  will  but  repay  your  country's  confidence,  by 
giving  it  peace." 

"  So  great  would  be  my  damning  sin  in  such  an  accep- 
tance," cried  Wallace,"that  I  should  be  abhorred  by  God 
and  man.  You  talk  of  noble  minds.  Earl ;  look  into 
your  ov/n,  and  will  it  not  tell  you,  that  from  the  mo- 
ment a  people  can  bring  themselves  to  put  the  com- 
mand of  their  actions,  and  with  that  their  consciences, 
into  the  hands  of  an  usurper,  (and  that  Edward  is  one 
in  Scotland,  our  annals  and  his  tyrannies  declare  ;)they 
sell  their  birth-right,  and  become  unworthy  of  the 
name  of  men;  they  abjure  the  gift  with  which  God 
had  intrusted  them;  and  justly,  the  angels  of  his  host 
depart  from  them.  You  know  the  sacred  injunction— 
Firtue  z.s  better  than  life  I  By  that  we  are  commanded 
10  preserve  the  one  at  the  expense  of  the  other:  and- 


22  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS- 

we  are  ready  to  obey. — Neither  the  threats  nor  the 
blandishments  of  Edward,  have  power  to  shake  the  re- 
solves of  them  who  dra%v  the  sivord  of  the  Lord  and 
of  Gideon  /" 

"  Rebellious  man  I"  cried  Beck,  who  had  listened 
impatiently;  and  whose  haughty  spirit  could  ill  brook 
such  towering  language  being  directed  to  his  sove- 
reign; "since  you  dare  quote  scripture  to  sanction 
crime,  hear  my  embassage.  To  meet  the  possibility 
of  this  flagitious  obstinacy,  I  ca.me  armed  with  the 
thunder  of  the  church  ;  and  the  indignation  of  a  justly 
incensed  monarch.  Accept  his  most  gracious  ofTcrs, 
delivered  to  you  by  the  Lord  De  Lisle.  Here  is  the 
cross  to  receive  your  oath  of  fealty.  But  beware  1" 
added  he,  stretching  out  his  hand  as  if  he  thought  his 
commands  were  irresistible  ;  "keep  it  with  truer  faith 
than  did  the  traitor  Baiiol ;  or  expect  the  malediction 
of  heaven,  the  exterminating  vengeance  of  your  licgc 
lord  I" 

Wallace  was  not  discomposed  by  thia  fierce  attack  of 
the  stormy  prelate  :  "  My  lord  of  Durham,"  replied  he-, 
with  his  usually  serene  air,  "the  threats,  or  the  bribes 
of  EdwaiTl,  are,  as  I  have  said,  equally  indifferent  to 
me — Had  he  sent  me  such  proposals  as  became  a  just 
king,  and  were  possible  for  an  honest  Scot  to  admit,  he 
should  have  found  me  ready  to  have  treated  liim  with 
the  respect  due  to  his  rank  and  honour.  But  when  he 
demands  the  sacrifice  of  my  integrity;  when  he  asks 
me  to  sign  the  deed  that  would  again  spread  this  reno- 
vated land  with  devastation;  when  he  requires  me  to 
do  this,  were  I  to  consider  the  glozing  language  of  his 
embassy,  as  grace  and  nobleness,  I  should  belie  my 
own  truth ;  which  tramples  alike  on  his  menaces,  and 
his  pretended  claims. —  And  I  ask  you,  priest  of  hea- 
ven !  is  he  a  God  greater  than  Jehovah,  that  I  should 
fear  him  ?" 

"  And  dost  thou  presume,  audacious  rebel  1"  ex- 
claimed Beck,  "  that  the  light  of  Israel  deigns  to 
shine  on  a  barbarian  nation  in  arms  against  a  hero  of 
the  cross  ?  Reprobate  that  thou  art,  answer  thyself  to 
thine  own  condemnation  !  Does  not  the  church  de- 
clare the  claims  of  Edward  to  be  just  ?  and  who  d;i/('- 
gain-say  her  decrees  ? 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  .23 

"  The  voice  of  him  you  pretend  to  serve !  He  is  no 
respecter  of  persons :  he  raises  the  poor  from  the 
dust ;  and  by  his  arm  thy  tyrant  and  his  host  are  plung- 
ed in  the  overwhehiiing  waves  1  Bishop,  I  know  in 
whom  I  trust.  Is  the  minister  greater  than  his  lord, 
that  I  should  believe  the  word  of  a  synod  against  the 
declared  will  of  God?  Neither  anathemas  nor  armed 
thousands  shall  make  me  acknowledge  the  supremacy 
of  Edward.  He  may  conquer  the  body,  but  the  soul  of 
a  patriot  he  can  never  subdue." 

"  Then,"  cried  Leek,  suddenly  rising  with  a  face 
black  with  choler,  and  stretching  his  crosier  over  the 
head  of  Wallace,  he  exclaimed,  "  As  the  rod  of  Moses 
shed  plagues,  miseries,  and  death,  over  the  land  of 
Egypt,  I  invoke  the  like  judgments  to  fall  on  this  re- 
bellious land  and  its  blasphemous  leader  !  And  thus  I 
leave  it  my  curse. ^' 

Wallace  smiled  as  the  terrific  words  fell  from  the 
lips  of  this  demon  in  sacred  guise.  Lord  de  Lisle  ob- 
served him;  "  You  despise  this  malediction.  Sir  Wil- 
liam Wallace  !  I  thought  more  piety  had  dwelt  with 
so  much  military  nobleness  1" 

"  I  should  not  regard  the  curses  of  a  congregated 
world,"  replied  Wallace,  "  when  my  conscience  as 
loudly  proclaims  that  God  is  on  my  side.  And  is  he 
not  omniscient,  that  he  should  be  swayed  by  the  preju- 
dices of  men  ?  Does  he  not  read  the  heart?  Is  he 
not  master  of  all  causes  ?  And  shall  I  shrink,  when  I 
know  that  I  hold  his  commission?  Shall  1  not  regard 
these  anathemas,  even  as  the  artillery  with  which  the 
adversary  would  drive  me  from  my  post  ?  But  did  the 
clouds  rain  fire,  and  the  earth  open  beneath  my  feet,  I 
would  not  stir ;  for  I  know  who  planted  me  here  ;  and 
as  long  as  he  wills  me  to  stand,  neither  men  nor  devils 
can  move  me  hence." 

"  Thou  art  incorrigible  !"  cried  Beck. 
.  "  I  would  say,  firm  ;"  rejoined  De  Lisle,  overcome 
with  the  majesty  of  virtue  ;  "could  I  regard,*  as  he 
does,  the  course  he  has  espoused.  But,  as  it  is,  noble 
Wallace,"  continued  he,  "  I  must  regret  your  infatua- 
tion ;  and  instead  of  the  peace  I  thought  to  leave  with 
you,  hurl  war,  never-ending^  extirpating  war,  upon  the 


24  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

head  of  this  devoted  nation  !"  As  he  spoke,  he  threw 
his''*^)  lance  against  the  opposite  wall,  in  which  it  stuck, 
and  stood  shivering ;  and  teiking  up  the  casket,  he  re- 
placed it,  and  its  splendid  contents,  in  his  bosom. 

Beck  had  turned  away  in  wrath  from  the  table  ;  and 
advancing  with  a  magisterial  step  to  the  door,  he  threw 
it  open,  as  if  he  thought  that  longer  to  breathe  the 
same  air  with  the  person  he  had  excommunicated, 
would  infect  him  with  his  own  curses.  At  that  instant 
a  group  ot  Scots,  who  Avaited  in  the  anti-chamber, 
hastened  forward.  At  sight  of  the  prelate  they  raised, 
their  bonnets,  but  hesitated  to  pass  him,  as  he  uo\ir 
stood,  proudly  neglectful  of  their  respect,  on  the  thres- 
hold of  the  halj  door.  In  the  next  minute  Wallace 
appeared  with  De  Lisle. 

"  Brave  knight,"  said  the  Earl,  "  the  adieus  of  a 
man  as  sensible  of  your  private  worth,  as  he  regrets 
the  errors  of  your  public  opinions,  abide  with  youl" 

"  Were  Edward  as  sensible  to  virtue  as  his  brave 
subjects  are,"  replied  the  chief,  "  I  should  not  fear 
that  another  drop  of  blood  need  be  shed  in  Scotland, 
to  convince  him  of  his  present  injustice.  Farewell, 
noble  De  Lisle;  the  generous  candour  of  yourself,iand 
your  brother,  will  ever  live  in  tiie  remembrance  of 
William  Wallace." 

While  he  yet  spoke,  a  youth  broke  from  the  hold  of 
a  chieftain  who  stood  amidst  the  group  before  them, 
and  rushing  towards  the  Regent,  threw  himself  with  a 
cry  of  joy  at  his  feet.  "  My  Edwin,  my  brother  !"  ex- 
claimed Wallace,  and  immediately  raising  him,  clasp- 
ed him  in  his  arms.  The  throng  of  Scots,  who  had 
accompanied  their  young  leader  from  Stirling,  now 
crowded  about  the  chief,  some  kiieeling  and  kissing 
his  garments,  and  others  ejaculating  with  uplifted, 
hands,  "  Thanks  be  to  the  God  of  battles,  who  has  re- 
turned our  protector  to  us  safe,  and  with  a  redoubleel 
glory  1" 

"  You  forgive  me,  my  master  and  friend  ?"  cried 
Edwin,  forgetting,  in  the  happy  agitation  of  his  mind, 
the  presence  of  the  English  embassadors. 

"  It  vras  only  as  a  master,  I  condemned  you,  my 
brother  I"   returned  Wallace  j    "  every  proof  of  your 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  25 

affection,  must  render  you  dearer  to  me  ;  and  had  it 
been  exerted  against  an  offender  not  so  totally  in  your 
power,  you  would  not  have  met  my  reprimand.  But 
ever  remember,  that  the  persons  of  prisoners  are  in- 
violable ;  for  they  lie  on  the  bosom  of  mercy;  and  who, 
that  has  honour,  would  take  them  thence  ?" 

De  Lisle,  who  had  lingered  to  observe  this  short, 
but  animated  scene,  now  wanted  to  interrupt  it :  "  May 
1  ask,  noble  Wallace,"  said  he,  "if  this  interesting 
youth  be  the  brave  young  Ruthven,  v/ho  distinguished 
himself  at  Dumbarton ;  and  who,  my  brother  told  me, 
incurred  a  severe,  though  just  sentence  from  you,  in 
consequence  of  his  attack  upon  one  whom,  as  a  sol- 
dier, I  blush  to  name." 

"  It  is  the  same."  replied  Wallace,  "  The  valovu'  and 
fidelity  of  such  as  he,  are  as  sinews  to  my  arms ;  and 
bring  a  more  grateful  empire  to  my  heart,  than  all  the 
crowns  which  may  be  in  the  power  of  Edv/ard  to  be- 
stow." 

"  I  have  often  seen  the  homage  of  the  body,"  said 
De  Lisle,  "  but  here  I  see  that  of  the  soul ;  and  were  I 
a  king,  I  should  envy  Sir  William  Wallace  !" 

"  You  speak  either  as  a  courtier  or  a  traitor !"  sud- 
denly exclaimed  Beck,  and  turning  with  a  threatening- 
brow  on  De  Lisle  ;  "Beware,  Earl !  for  what  has  now 
been  said,  must  be  repeated  to  the  royal  Edward  :  and 
he  will  judge  whether  such  flattery  to  this  proud  rebel 
be  consistent  with  your  allegiance." 

"  Every  word  that  has  been  uttered  in  this  confer- 
ence, («>  I  will  myself  deliver  to  King  Edward  ;"  replied 
De  Lisle  ;  "  he  shall  know  the  man  on  whom  he  may 
be  forced  by  justice  to  denounce  the  sentence  of  rebel- 
lion ;  and,  when  the  puissance  of  his  royal  arm  lays  this 
kingdom  at  his  feet,  the  virtues  of  Sir  William  Wal- 
*lace  may  then  find  the  mercy  he  now  contemns." 

Beck  did  not  condescend  to  listen  to  the  latter  part 
of  this  explanation ;  but,  walking  into  the  court-yard, 
had  mounted  his  horse  before  his  worthier  coadjutor 
appeared  from  the  hall.  Taking  a  gracious  leave  of 
Sir  John  Graham,  who  attended  him  to  the  door,  the 
Earl  said,  "What  miracle  is  this  that  is  before  me  ? 
Not  only  the  mighty  mover  in  this  v/ide  ins*irrection  ii- 

VOI,.    II,  c 


26  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

in  the  bloom  of  manhood,  but  all  the  generals  of  his  that 
I  have  yet  seen,  appear  in  the  very  morning  of  youth  ! 
And  you  conquer  our  veterans ;  you  make  yourselves 
names  which,  with  us,  are  only  purchased  by  long  ex- 
perience, and  hairs  grown  grey  in  camps  and  battles  !'* 
"Then  by  our  morning,  judge  what  our  day  will  be," 
replied  Graham,  ''and  shew  your  monarch,  that  being- 
young,  we  are  likely  to  live  the  longer ;  and  that  as 
surely  as  the  night  of  death  Avill  in  some  hour  close 
upon  prince  and  peasant,  this  land  shall  never  again  be 
over-shadowed  by  his  darkness." 

"  Listen  not  to  their  bold  treasons !"  cried  Beck  ; 
and  setting  spurs  to  his  horse,  in  no  very  clerical  style 
galloped  out  of  the  gates.  De  Lisle  made  some 
courteous  reply  to  Graham  ;  and  bowing  to  the  rest  of 
the  Scottish  officers  who  stood  around,  turned  his  steed, 
and  followed  by  his  escort,  pursued  the  steps  of  the 
bishop  along  the  snow -covered  banks  of  the  Clyde. 

When  Wallace  was  left  alone  with  Edwin,  that  af- 
fectionate boy,  (after  expressing  his  delight  that  his 
cousin  Murray  then  held  his  head-quarters  in  Bothwell- 
castle)  took  from  his  bosom  two  large  packets  from 
Lord  Mar  and  the  Countess  ;  and  as  he  put  them  into 
liis  hand,  said, "  My  dear  cousin  has  sent  you  many 
blessings ;  but  I  could  not  persuade  her  to  register 
even  one  on  paper,  while  my  uncle  wrote  all  this.  Al- 
most ever  since  her  own  recovery,  like  a  ministering 
angel,  she  has  confined  herself  to  the  Earl's  sick  room; 
while  her  comely  step-mother  chose  to  devote  her 
hours  to  his  audience-chamber.'* 

Wallace  remarked  on  the  indisposition  of  Mar,  and 
the  duty  of  his  daughter,  with  tenderness.  And  Ed- 
win proceeded  to  describe  the  regal  style  wdiich  the 
Countess  aifected,  and  with  what  magnificence  she  wel- 
comeu  the  Earls  Badenoch  and  Athol  to  their  native 
country.  "  Indeed,  my  dear  lord,"  continued  he,  "  I 
cannot  guess  what  vain  passion  has  taken  possession  of 
her ;  but  the  very  day  in  which  I  went  to  Snawdoun  to 
receive  her  commands  for  you,  I  found  her  seated  on  a 
kind  of  throne,  v/ith  ladies  standing  in  her  presence, 
and  the  younger  chieftains  of  the  citadel  thronging  her 
anti-room,  as  if  she  were  the  Regent  herself.     Helen 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  27 

entered  for  a  moment ;  but  she  started,  (for  she  had 
never  before  witnessed  the  morning  courts  of  her  step- 
mother,)   and  retreating-,  I  followed." 

But  Edwin  did  not  relate  to  his  friend,  all  that  passed 
between  him  and  his  gentle  cousin,  in  the  private  saloon 
of  the  Countess,  whither  they  retired. 

Helen,  blushing  for  her  father's  wife,  would  have 
proceeded  immediately  to  her  own  apartments,  to 
wdiich  she  was  now,  for  the  first  time,  allowed  to  return 
since  the  Earl's  convalescence  ;  but  Edwin  drew  her 
into  one  of  Lady  Mar's  rooms  ;  and  seating  her  beside 
him,  began  to  speak  of  his  departure  and  anticipated 
meeting  with  Wallace.  He  held  her  hand  in  his.  "  My 
dearest  cousin,"  said  he,  "  will  not  this  tender  hand, 
which  has  suffered  so  much  for  our  brave  friend,  write 
him  one  word  of  kind  remembrance  ?  Our  queen  here, 
will  send  him  volumes." 

"Then  he  would  hardly  have  time  to  attend  to  one 
of  mine,"  replied  Helen,  with  a  smile  ;  "  besides,  he 
knows  I  bless  him  ;  and  he  requires  no  new  assurances 
to  convince  him  that  Helen  Mar  can  never  cease  to  re- 
member with  the  kindest  thoughts,  her  benefactor.'* 

"  And  is  this  all  I  am  to  say  to  him,  Helen  ?" 

"All,  my  EcKvin." 

"  What  1  not  one  word  of  the  life  you  have  led  since 
he  quitted  Stirling  ?  Shall  I  not  tell  him,  that  when  this 
lovely  arm  no  longer  wore  the  livery  of  its  heroism  in 
his  behalf,  instead  of  your  appearing  at  the  gay  assem- 
blies of  the  Countess  ;  instead  of  your  car  being  fol- 
lowed by  the  homage  of  our  plumed  chieftains  ;  you 
remained  immured  within  your  oratory  ;  or,  in  the 
more  appropriate  temple  of  nature,  amid  groves  and 
incense-breathing  flowers,  invoking  blessings  on  his 
head  ?  Shall  I  not  tell  him,  that  since  the  sickness  oi 
my  good  old  uncle,  you  have  sat  days  and  nights  by  his 
couch-side,  listening  to  all  the  dispatches  from  the 
borders,  and  subscribing  with  smiles  and  tears  to  the 
Earl's  praises  of  our  matchless  Regent  ?  Shall  I  not 
tell  of  the  sweet  nun,  v.ho  here  lives  the  life  of  an  an- 
chorite for  him  ?  Or  must  I  entertain  him  with  tlic 
pomps  and  vanities  of  my  most  unsaintly  aunt  ?" 

Helc]!  had  in  vain  attempted   to   stop  him  in   this 


28  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

harangue,  while,  with  an  arch  glance  at  her  mantling 
blushes,  he  half-whispered  these  insiduous  questions. 
"  Ah,  my  sweet  cousin,"  said  he,  "  there  is  something 
more  at  the  bottom  of  that  beating  heart  of  yours,  than 
you  will  allow  your  faithful  Edwin  to  peep  into  1" 

Helen's  heart  did  beat  violently  both  before  and  after 
this  remark  ;  but  conscious,  whatever  might  be  there, 
of  the  determined  purpose  of  her  soul,  she  turned  on 
him  a  steady  look.  "  Edwin,"  said  she,  "  there  is 
nothing  in  my  heart  that  you  may  not  see.  That  it  re- 
veres Sir  William  Wallace  beyond  all  other  men,  I  do 
not  deny.  But  class  not  my  deep  veneration  with  a 
sentiment  which  may  be  jested  on !  He  has  spoken  to 
me  the  lai^guage  of  friendship  :  you  know  what  it  is  to 
be  his  friend  :  And  having  tasted  of  heaven,  I  cannot 
stoop  to  earth.  What  pleasure  can  I  find  in  pageants  ? 
W^hat  interest  in  the  admiration  of  men  ?  Is  not  he  a 
brighter  object  than  I  can  any  where  look  upon  ?  Is  not 
his  esteem  of  a  value  that  puts  to  nought  the  homages 
of  all  else  in  the  world?  Do  me  then  justice,  my  Ed- 
win 1  Believe  mc,  I  am  no  gloomy,  no  sighing  recluse. 
I  am  happy  with  my  thoughts  ;  and  thrice  happy  at  tho 
side  of  my  father's  couch  ;  for  there  I  meet  the  image 
gf  the  most  exemplary  of  human  beings  ;  and  there  I 
perform  the  duties  of  a  child  to  the  best  of  parents." 

"  Ah,  Helen  !  Helen  I"  cried  Edwin,  "  durst  I  speak 
the  wishes  of  my  heart !  But  you  and  Sir  William 
Wallace  would  both  frown  on  me,  and  I  dare  not !" 

'■'  Then  never  do  i"  exclaimed  Helen,  turning  pale, 
and  trer/ibling  from  head  to  foot ;  too  well  guessing  by 
the  generous  glov/  in  his  countenance,  what  would  have 
been  that  wish. 

At  ihis  instant  the  door  opened,  and  Lady  Mar  ap-^ 
pcared.  Both  rose  at  her  entrance.  She  bowed  her 
head  haughtily  to  Helen  ;  the  sight  of  whom  had  beeif 
odious  t"  her  ever  since  the  night  she  had  seen  her, 
though  bleeding  and  insensible,  in  the  arms  of  Sir  Wil-  .• 
liam  Wallace.  To  Edwin  she  graciously  extended  her 
hand  as  she  seated  herself.  "  Why,  my  dear  nephew, 
did  you  suffer  yourself  to  be  infected  by  this  moping 
girl,  and  not  come  into  the  audience  chamber  ?'* 

Edv/Jn  answered,  that  as  he  did  not  know  the  go- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  29 

vernor  of  Stirling's  lady  living  in  the  state  of  a  queen, 
he  hoped  he  should  be  excused  for  mistaking  lords  and 
ladies-in-waiting  for  company  ;  and  for  that  reason, 
having  resolved  to  await  an  opportunity  of  bidding  her 
adieu  in  a  less  pui)lic  scene. 

Lady  Mar,  with  increased  stateliness,  replied; 
"  Perhaps  it  is  necessary  to  remind  you,  Edwin,  that 
though  Lord  Mar's  wife,  I  am  a  descendant  of  queens  ; 
a  princess  in  my  own  right;  and  not  only  heiress  to  the 
sovereignty  of  the  northern  isles,  but  next  in  blood  to 
the  Earl  of  Badenoch,  of  the  race  of  Scottish  kings. 
Rely  on  it,  I  do  not  degenerate  ;  and  that  I  affect  no 
state  to  which  I  may  not  pretend." 

Edwin,  to  conceal  an  irrepressible  smile  at  the  ab- 
surd pride  of  his  aunt,  turned  towards  the  window  ; 
but  not  before  the  Countess  had  observed  the  ridicule 
which  played  on  his  lips.  Vexed,  but  afraid  to  repri- 
mand one  who  might  so  soon  resent  it,  by  speak:ng  of 
her  disparagingly  to  Wallace,  she  unburthened  the  swel- 
ling of  her  anger  upon  the  unoffending  Helen.  Not 
doubting  that  she  felt  as  Edwin  did,  and  fancying  that 
she  saw  the  same  expression  in  her  countenance ; 
"  Lady  Helen,"  cried  she,  "  I  request  an  explanation  of 
that  look  of  derisioii  which  I  now  see  oh  your  face.  I 
wish  to  know  whether  the  intoxication  of  your  vanity 
dare  impel  you  to  despise  claims,  v.'hich  you  may  one 
day  be  made  to  smart  under  1" 

This  attack  surprised  Helen,  who,  absorbed  in  other 
meditations,  had  hardly  attended  to  what  had  passed. 
"  I  neither  deride  you.  Lady  Mar,  nor  despise  the 
claims  of  Lord  Badenoch.  But  since  you  have  conde- 
scendedto  speak  to  me  on  the  subject,  I  must,  out  of 
respect  to  yourself,  and  tenderness  for  my  father, 
frankly  say,  that  the  assumption  of  honours  not  legally 
in  your  possession,  may  involve  you  in  ridicule,  and 
pluck  danger  on  your  nearest  relatives.  It  is  what  my 
father  would  never  approve,  were  he  to  know  it.  x\nd 
by  awakening  the  jealousy  of  other  ladies  of  the  royal 
houses,  is  not  a  probable  mode  to  facilitate  the  succes- 
sion of  Lord  Badenoch." 

Lady  Mur^  provoked  at  the  just  reasoning  and  cool- 
ness of  this  reply  ;  and  at  being  mjlsapprehended  with 


iv.  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

regard  to  the  object  v/ith  whom  she  wasS  to  share  the 
splendors  of  a  throne;  answered  rather  inconsiderately, 
»'  Your  father  is  an  old  man,  and  has  out-lived  every 
generous  feeling.  Pie  neither  understands  my  actions, 
nor  shall  he  control  them."  Helen,  struck  dumb  by 
this  unexpected  declaration,  suffered  her  to  proceed ; 
'•  And  as  to  Lord  Badenoch  giving  me  the  rank  to 
Vr-hich  my  birth  entities  me,  that  is  a  foolish  dream — I 
look  to  a  greater  hand." 

"  What  I"  inquired  Edwin,  with  an  innocent  laugh, 
^'  cioes  your  ladyship  expect  my  uncle  to  die,  and  that 
Bruce  will  come  hither  to  lay  the  crown  of  Scotland 
at  your  feet?'' 

"  I  expect  nothing  of  Bruce,  nor  of  your  uncle,"  re- 
turned she,  with  a  haughty  throw  of  her  head  ;  "  but  I 
look  for  respect  from  the  daughter  of  Lord  Mar;  and 
also  from  the  friend  of  Sir  William  Wallace  ;  else  the 
time  may  come,  when  all  who  offend  me  shall  rue  the 
hour  in  which  they  have  insulted  the  kindness  that 
would  have  loaded  them  with  honours." 

She  rose  from  her  chair,  and  presenting  Edwin  with 
the  packet  for  Wallace,  told  Helen  she  might  retire 
to  her  own  room. 

"  To  my  father's,  I  will,  madam,"  returned  she,  "  for 
Edwin,  who  sat  with  him  last  night,  to  receive  his  dis- 
patches, now  leaves  him  to  my  care" 

Lady  Mar  coloured  at  this  reproof,  and  turning  to 
Edwin,  said,  "  You  know  that  the  dignity  of  his  situation 
must  be  maintained  ;  and  while  others  attend  on  his 
couch,  I  must  tx)  his  reputation." 

"  I  have  often  heard  that  Fame  is  better  than  lifei^^ 
replied  Edwin,  "and  I  thank  Lady  Mar  for  shewing 
,ue  how  differently  people  may  translate  the  same 
lesson.  "  Adieu,  sweet  Helen,"  said  he,  bending  to 
kiss  her  hand.  "  Farewell,  dear  Edwin,"  returned  she, 
^*  may  good  angels  guard  you  1" 

The  substance  of  the  latter  part  of  this  scene,  Edwin 
ild  relate  to  Wallace.  He  smiled  at  the  vain  follies 
of  the  Countess,  and  broke  the  seal  of  her  letter.  It 
vv'as  in  the  same  st.  le  with  her  conversations  ;  atone 
moment  declaring  herself  his  disinterested  friend  ;  in 
^he  next,  uttering  wild  professions  of  never-ending  at- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  31 

tachnieftt.  She  deplored  the  sacrifice  that  had  been 
made  of  her,  when  quite  a  child,  to  the  doting  passion 
of  Lord  Mar;  and  complained  of  his  vv^ant  of  sympathy 
with  any  of  her  feelings.  Then  picturing  the  happi- 
ness which  must  result  from  the  reciprocal  love  of  con- 
genial hearts,  she  ventured  to  shew  how  truly  hers 
would  unite  v/ith  Wallace's.  The  conclusion  of  this 
strange  epistle  told  him,  that  the  devoted  gratitude  of 
Lord  Badenoch,  and  all  her  relations  of  the  different 
houses  of  Cummin,  were  ready  at  any  moment  to  re- 
linquish their  claims  on  the  crown,  to  place  it  on 
brows  so  worthy  to  v/earit. 

The  words  of  this  letter  were  so  artfully,  and  so 
persuasively  penned,  that  had  not  Edwin  described  the 
inebriated  vanity  of  Lady  Mar,  Wallace  might  have  be- 
lieved that  she  was  ambitious  only  for  him ;  and  that, 
could  she  share  his  heart,  his  throne  would  be  a  secon- 
dary object.  To  establish  this  deception  in  his  mind, 
she  added — "  I  live  here  as  at  the  head  of  a  court,  and 
fools  around  me  think  I  take  pleasure  in  it : — But  did 
they  look  into  my  actions,  they  would  see  that  I  serve 
while  I  seem  to  reign.  I  am  working  in  the  hearts  of 
-men  for  your  advancement." 

But  whether  this  were  her  real  motive  or  not,  it  was 
the  same  to  Wallace ;  he  felt  that  she  would  always  be 
not  merely  the  last  object  in  his  thoughts,  but  ever  one 
of  his  aversion.  He  might  have  esteemed  her  as  a 
friend,  he  abhorred  her  as  a  lover ;  therefore  hastily 
running  over  her  letter,  he  recurred  to  a  second  peru- 
sal of  Lord  Mar's.  In  this  he  found  most  satisfactory 
details  of  the  success  of  his  dispositions.  Lord  Loch- 
awe  had  possessed  himiself  of  the  whole  of  the  western 
coast  of  Scotland,  from  the  Mull  of  Kintyre,  to  the 
farthest  mountains  of  Glenmore.  There  the  victorious 
Lord  Ruthven  met  him,  and  completed  the  recovery  of 
the  Highlands,  by  a  range  of  conquests  from  the  Spey 
to  the  Murray-Frith  and  Inverness-shire.  Lord  Both- 
well,  as  his  brave  colleague,  brought  from  the  shores  of 
Ross,  and  the  hills  of  Caithness,  every  Southron  ban- 
ner vt^hich  had  waved  on  their  embattled  tov/ers. 

Graham  was  sent  for  by  WallacCj  to  come  and  hear 
these  pleasant  tidings. 


32  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

"  Ah  !*^  cried  Edwin,  in  triumph,  "  not  a  spot  north 
of  the  Forth  now  remains,  that  does  not  acknowledge 
the    supremacy  of  the  Scottish  lion  !'' 

"  Nor  south  of  it,  either  !"  returned  Graham,  "  from 
the  Mull  of  Galloway,  to  my  gallant  father's  govern- 
ment on  the  Tweed  ;  from  the  Cheviots  to  the  northern 
ocean,  all  now  is  our  own.  The  door  is  locked  against 
England  ;  and  Scotland  must  prove  unfaithful  to  her- 
self, before  the  Southrons  can  again  set  foot  on  her 
borders." 

The  more  private  accounts  ^vere  not  less  satisfactory 
to  Wallace ;  for  he  found  that  his  plans  for  the  disci- 
plining, and  bringing  into  order,  the  people,  were  eve- 
ry where  adopted  ;  and  that,  in  consequence,  alarm 
and  penury  had  given  way  to  peace  and  abundance. 
To  witness  the  success  of  his  comprehensive  designs; 
and  to  settle  a  dispute  relative  to  the  government  of 
Perth,  between  Lord  Ruthven  and  the  Earl  of  Athol-f . 
Lord  Mar  strongly  urged  him,  (since  he  had  driven  the 
enemy  so  many  hundred  miles  into  their  own  country,) 
to  repair  to  the  scene  of  contest  immediately.  "  Go," 
added  the  Earl,  "  through  the  Lothians,  and  across  the 
queen's-ferry,  directly  into  Perthshire.  I  would  not 
have  you  come  to  Stirling,  lest  it  should  be  supposed 
that  you  are  influenced  in  your  judgment  either  by  my- 
self or  my  wife.  But  I  think  there  cannot  be  a  ques- 
tion that  Lord  Ruthven's  services  to  the  great  cause, 
give  him  a  right  to  that  for  which  he  contends.  Lord 
Athol  has  no  claim,  but  that  of  his  superior  rank.  And, 
I  believe,  being  the  near  relation  of  my  wife,  she  is 
anxious  for  his  elevation.  Therefore,  come  not  near 
us,  if  you  would  avoid  female  importunity." 

Wallace  now  recollected  a  passage  in  Lady  Mar's 
letter,  which,  though  not  speaking  out,  insinuated  how 
she  should  expect  he  would  decide :  she  said, — "  As 
your  interest  is  mine,  my  noble  friend,  all  that  belongs 
to  me  is  yours  : — my  kindred  are  not  withheld  in  th>e 
gift  my  devoted  heart  bestows  on  you.  Therefore,  use 
them  as  your  own :  make  them  as  bulwarks  around 
your  power,  the  creatures  of  your  will,  the  instruments 
of  your  benevolence,  the  defenders  of  your  rights.'"' 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  ^32 

Wallace,  well  pleased  to  avoid  another  rencontre 
with  this  lady's  love  and  ambition,  sent  off  the  substance 
of  these  dispatches  to  Murray  ;  and  then  taking  a  ten- 
der leave  of  the  venerable  Gregory  and  his  family,  with 
Edwin  and  Sir  John  Graham  set  off*  next  morning  for 
the  Frith  of  Forth. 


CHAP.  IV. 

It  was  on  the  eve  of  St.  Thomas,  that  the  boat  which 
contained  Wallace,  drew  near  to  the  coast  of  Fife.  A 
little  to  the  right  of  him  towered  the,  tremendous  pre- 
cipices of  Kinghorn. 

"  Behold,  Edwin,"  said  he,  "  the  cause  of  all  our 
woe  1  From  those  horrible  rocks  fell  the  best  of  kings, 
the  good  Alexander.  My  father  accompanied  him  in 
that  fatal  ride  ;  and  was  one  of  the  unhappy  group  who 
had  the  evil  hap  to  find  his  mangled  body  lying  amongst 
the  rocks  below." 

"  I  have  heard,  observed  Graham,  "  that  the  lord  of 
Learmont  prophesied  that  dreadful  calamity  to  Scot- 
land." 

"  He  did  prognosticate,"  replied  Wallace,  "  that  on 
the  eighteenth  of  April  a  storm  should  burst  over  this 
land,  which  would  lay  the  country  in  ruins.  A  fear  in 
consequence  seized  the  farmers :  But  it  seems  the 
prophecy  regarded  a  nobler  object  than  the  harvest. 
The  day  came,  but  w^as  unclouded  :  It  continued  per- 
fectly serene  ;  and  Lord  March,  tp  whom  the  seer  had 
presaged  the  event,  at  noon  reproached  him  with  the 
unlikeliness  of  its  completion.  But  even  at  the  mo- 
ment he  was  ridiculing  the  sage,  an  express  on  a  foam- 
ing steed  knocked  at  his  gate,  to  inform  him  that  the 
king  had  accidentally  fallen  from  the  precipice  of  King- 
hom,  and  was  slain.  Thatn^  said  the  Lord  of  Learmont, 
is  the  scaithing  ivmd  and  dreadful  temfiest  nvhich  shall 
Jong  blow  calamity  and  trouble  on  the  realm  of. Scot- 
land ! — And  surely  his  words  have  been  verified,  for 
still  the  storm  rages  around  our  borders  ;  and  will  not 
end,  1  fear,  till  the  dras:on  of  England  is  laid  low  in  the 
bhist."(f) 


34  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

The  like  discourse  held  the  friends,  till  landing  at  Ro- 
seyth  castle  ;  they  lodged  there  for  the  night ;  and  set- 
ting oft' next  morning  by  day-break,  crossed  the  Lo- 
monds  before  sun-rise  and  entered  Perth  at  noon. 

The  news  of  the  Regent's  arrival  was  soon  spread 
throughout  the  province  ;  and  in  less  than  an  hour,  the 
halls  of  the  castle  were  crowded  wiih  chieftains,  come 
to  pay  their  respects  to  their  benefactor.  An  army  of 
grateful  peasantry  from  the  hills  filled  the  courts,  beg- 
ging only  for  one  glance  of  their  beloved  lord.  To 
©blige  them,  Wallace  mounted  his  horse,  and  between 
the  lords  Ruthven  and  Athol,  with  his  bonnet  off,  rode 
from  the  castle,  to  the  populace-covered  plain  which  l^y 
to  the  west  of  the  town.  He  gratified  their  affectionate 
eagerness  by  this  condescension,  and  received  in  return 
the  sincere  homage  of  a  thousand  grateful  hearts.  The 
snow-topped  Grampians  echoed  with  the  proud  acclama- 
tions of  Our  deliverer — Our  prince — The  champion  of 
Scotland — The  glorious  William  Wallace  I  and  the 
shores  of  the  Tay  resounded  with  similar  rejoicings  at 
the  sight  of  him  who  had  made  the  Scottish  seamen  lords 
of  the  Northern  ocean. 

Ruthven  beheld  this  eloquence  of  nature  with  sym- 
pathetic feelings.  His  just  sense  of  the  unequalled 
merits  of  the  Regent,  had  long  internally  acknowledged 
him  as  his  king ;  and  he  smiled  with  approbation  at 
every  breathing  amongst  the  people,  which  intimated 
what  would  at  last  be  their  general  shout.  Wallace 
had  proved  himself  not  only  a  warrior,  but  a  legislator. 
In  the  midst  of  war  he  had  planted  the  fruits  of  peace, 
and  now  the  olive  and  the  vine  waved  abundt.nt  on  every 
hill. 

Different  were  the  thoughts  of  the  gloomy  Athol  as 
he  rode  by  the  side  of  the  Regent.  Could  he,  by  a  look, 
have  blasted  those  valiant  arms;  and  palsied  that 
youthful  head,  whose  judgment  shamed  the  hoariest 
temples,  gladly  would  he  have  made  Scotland  the  sac- 
rifice ;  so  that  he  might  never  again  find  himself  in  the 
triumphant  train  of  one  whom  he  deemed  a  boy  and  an 
upstart  I  Thus  did  he  muse  ;  and  thus  did  the  fiend 
envy  open  a  way  into  his  soul  for  all  those  demons  to 
enter,  which  were  so  soon  to  possess  it  to  the  destruc» 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  35 

tion  of  the  iDlooming  Eden,  over  which,  like  the  devil  in 
Paradise,  his  destroying  spirit  now  hovered. 

The  issue  of  Ruthven's  claims,  did  not  lessen  Lord 
Athol's  hatred  of  the  Regent.  Wallace  simply  stated 
the  case  to  him,  only  changing  the  situations  of  the  op- 
ponents ;  He  supposed  Athol  to  be  in  the  place  of 
Ruthven ;  and  then  asked  the  frowning  Earl,  ifRuth- 
ven  had  demanded  a  government  which  he,  Athol,  had 
bravely  won  and  nobly  secured,  whether  he  should  deem 
it  just  to  be  sentenced  to  relinquish  it  into  the  hands  of 
his  rival  ?  By  this  question  he  was  forced  to  decide 
against  himself.  But  while  Wallace  generously  hoped, 
that  by  having  made  him  his  own  judge,  he  had  found  an 
expedient  both  to  soften  the  pain  of  disappointment, 
and  to  lessen  the  humiliation  of  defeat,  he  had  only  re- 
doubled the  hatred  of  Athol ;  who  thought  he  had  thus, 
been  cajoled  out  of  even  the  common  privilege  of  com- 
plaint. He,  however,  affected  to  be  reconciled  to  the 
issue  of  the  affair;  and  taking  a  friendly  leave  of  the 
Regent,  retired  to  Blair;  and  there,  amongst  the  nu- 
merous fortresses  which  owned  his  power,  amongst  the 
stupendous  strong-holds  of  nature,  the  cloud-invested 
mountains,  and  the  iabyrinthian  winding  of  the  lochs 
and  streams  ;  he  determined  to  pass  his  days  and  nights 
in  devising  the  sure  fall  of  this  proud  usurper.  For  so, 
the  bitterness  of  an  envy  he  durst  not  yet  breathe  to  any, 
impelled  him  internally  to  designate  the  unpretending 
W^allace. 

Meanwhile  Wallace,  being  much  oppressed  by  the 
crowds  which  were  constantly  assembling  in  Perth  to 
do  him  homage,  secluded  himself  for  a  few  days  in 
Hunting-tower,  a  castle  of  Lord  Ruthven's,  at  a  short 
distance  from  the  town.  He  there  arranged  with  the 
chiefs  of  several  clans,  matters  of  great  consequence 
to  the  internal  repose  of  the  country;  and  receiving 
applications  for  similar  regulations  from  the  counties 
farther  north,  he  decided  on  carrying  them  himself. 
Severe  as  the  weather  is  at  that  season,  he  bade  adieu 
to  the  warm  hospitalities  of  Hunting-tower ;  and,  ac- 
companied by  Graham  and  his  young  friend  Edwin, 
with  fiftv  of  his  Lanarkers  as  a  small  but  faithful  train, 


56  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

he  commenced  a  journney,  which  he   intended  should 
comprehend  the  circuit  of  the  Highlands. 

With  the  chieftain  of  almost  every  castle  in  his  tour, 
he  passed  a  day  ;  and  according  to  the  interest  which 
the  situation  of  the  surrounding  peasantry  created  in 
his  mind,  he  lengthened  his  sojourn.  But  every  where 
he  was  welcomed  with  enthusiasm  ;  and  his  glad  eye 
beheld  the  festivities  of  Christmas,  with  a  delight 
which  recalled  passed  emotions  till  they  wrung  his 
heart. 

The  last  day  of  the  old  year  he  spent  with  Lord  Loch- 
awe  in  Kilchurn  castle.fe^  After  a  bounteous  feast,  in 
which  lord  and  vassal  joined,  the  whole  family,  accord- 
ing to  the  custom  of  the  country,  sat  up  the  night  to 
hail  the  coming  in  of  the  new  season.  Wallace  had  pas- 
sed that  hour,  twelve  months  ago,  alone  with  his  Marion  ! 
They  sat  together  in  the  window  of  the  western  tower  of 
Ellerslie  ;  and  while  he  listened  to  the  cheerful  lilts  to 
which  their  servants  were  dancing,  the  hand  of  his  lovely 
bride  was  clasped  softly  in  his.  Marion  smiled,  and  talk- 
ed of  the  happiness  which  should  await  them  in  the  year 
to  come.  "  Aye,  my  beloved,"  said  he,  ^'  more  than 
thy  beauteous  self  will  then  fill  these  happy  arms  1 
Thy  babe,  my  wife,  will  then  hang  at  thy  bosom,  to 
bless  with  a  parent's  joys  thy  grateful  husband  !" — That 
time  was  now  come  round,  and  where  was  Marion  ? — 
cold  inMicr  grave.  Where  that  smiling  babe  ? — a  mur- 
derer's steel  had  reached  it  ere  it  saw  the  light. 

Wallace  groaned  at  these  recollections :  He  struck 
bis  hand  forcibly  on  his  bursting  heart,  and  fled  from 
the  room.  The  noise  of  the  harps,  the  laughing  of 
the  dancers,  (for  Loch-awe's  beautiful  daughters  had 
assembled  a  gay  bevy  from  the  neighbouring  castles,  to 
welcome  the  year  of  glory  to  Scotland  ;)  prevented  his 
emotion  from  being  observed..— And  rushing  far  from 
the  joyous  tumult,  till  the  sound  died  in  the  breeze,  or 
was  only  brought  to  his  ear  by  fitful  gusts,  he  speeded 
along  the  margin  of  the  lake,  as  if  he  would  have  also 
flown  from  himself.  But  memory,  racking  memory, 
followed  him ;  and  throwing  himself  exhausted  on  a 
bank,  over  which  the  ice  hung  in  glittering  pendents,  he 
felt  not  the  roughness  of  the  ground,  for  all  within  him 
was  disturbed  and  at  war. 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 


oi 


'^  O  !  blessed  saints,"  cried  he,  "  why  was  I  select- 
ed for  this  cruel  sacrifice  ?  Why  was  this  heart,  to 
whom  the  acclaim  of  multitudes  could  bring  no  selfish 
joy,  why  was  it  to  be  bereft  of  all  that  ever  made  it  beat 
with  transport  ?  Companion  of  my  days,  partner  of 
my  soul !  my  16st,  lost  Marion  !  and  are  thine  eyes  for 
ever  closed  on  me  ?  shall  I  never  more  clasp  that  hand 
which  ever  thrilled  my  frame  with  every  sense  of  rap- 
ture ?— Gone,  gone  for  ever,  and  I  am  alone  ?" 

Long  and  agonizing  was  the  pause  which  succeeded 
to  this  fearful  tempest  of  feeling.  In  that  hour  of  grief, 
renewed  in  all  its  former  violence,  he  forgot  country^ 
friends,  and  all  on  earth.  The  recollection  of  his  fame^ 
was  mockery  to  him  ;  for  where  was  she  to  whom  the 
sound  of  his  praises  would  have  given  such  delight  ? 

"  Ah  !"  said  he,  "  it  was  indeed  happiness  to  be 
brightened  in  those  eyes ! — When  the  gratitude  of  our 
poor  retainers  met  thine  ear,  how  didst  thou  lay  thy  soft 
cheek  to  mine,  and  shoot  its  gentle  warmth  into  my 
heart  i"  At  that  moment  he  turned  his  face  on  the 
gelid  bank  : — Starting  with  wild  horror,  he  exclaimed, 
"  Is  it  now  so  cold  ? — My  Marion,  my  murdered  wife  I" 
and  rushing  from  tlie  spot,  he  again  hastened  along  the 
margin  of  the  loch.  But  there  he  still  heard  the  dis- 
tant sound  of  the  pipes  from  the  castle  :  He  could  not 
bear  their  gay  notes ;  and  darting  up  the  hill  which 
overhung  Loch-awe's  domains,  ascended  with  swiit  and 
reckless  steps  the  rocky  sides  of  Ben  Cruachon.  Full 
of  distracting  thoughts,  and  impelled  by  a  wild  despair, 
he  hurried  from  steep  to  steep;  and  rapidly  descending 
the  western  side  of  the  mountain,  regardless  of  the 
piercing  sleet  which  blew  in  his  face,  he  was  flying 
forward,  when  his  course  was  suddenly  checked  by 
coming  in  violent  contact  with  another  human  being, 
who,  running  as  hastily  through  the  storm,  drove  impe- 
tuously against  Wallace,  but  being  the  weaker  of  the 
two,  fell  to  the  ground.  The  accident  rallied  the  scat- 
tered senses  of  the  chief.  He  row  felt  that  he  was  out 
in  the  midst  of  a  furious  winter  tempest ;  wandered,  he 
knew  not  whither,  and  had  probably  materially  injured 
some  poor  traveller  by  his  intemperate  motion. 

He  stooped  to  raise  the  fallen  man,  and  hearing  him 

VOL.    XI.  D 


38  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

mutter  something,  asked  whether  he  was  hurt.  The 
traveller,  perceiving  by  the  kind  tone  of  the  inquirer 
that  no  harm  had  been  intended,  answered  that  he  be- 
lieved not.  But  on  Wallace  assisting  him  to  rise,  he 
found  himself  a  little  lame ;  "  I  have  only  sprained  my 
ancle,"  added  he,  "  and  all  the  recompense  I  ask  of 
you  for  this  unlucky  upset,  is  to  give  me  a  helping  hand 
to  my  father's  cot,  which  is  just  by.  I  have  been  out 
at  a  neighbour's  to  dance  in  the  new-year  with  abonnie 
lass,  who  may  be  my  wife  before  another." 

As  the  honest  lad  went  on  telling  his  tale,  with  a  great 
many  particulars  dear  to  his  simple  wishes,  Wallace 
helped  him  along;  and  carefully  conducted  him,  through 
the  gathering  snow,  down  the  declivity  which  led  to  the 
shepherd's  cottage.  When  they  where  within  a  few 
yards  of  it,  Wallace  heard  the  sound  of  singing  :  but  it 
was  not  ]the  gay  caroling  of  mirth  :  the  solemn  chant  of 
more  serious  music  mingled  with  the  roaring  blast. 

"  Aye  I  am  not  too  late  yet !"  cried  the  communica- 
tive lad  ;  "  I  should  not  have  run  so  fast,  had  I  not  want- 
ed to  have  got  home  time  enough  to  make  one  in  the 
new-year's  hymn." 

They  had  now  arrived  at  the  little  door ;  and  the 
youth,  without  the  ceremony  of  knocking,  opened  the 
latch :  as  he  did  it,  he  turned  and  said  to  his  companion, 
"We  have  no  occasion  to  keep  bolts  on  our  doors, 
since  the  brave  Lord  Wallace  has  scoured  the  country 
of  all  the  Southron  robbers."  He  pushed  the  door  as 
he  spoke,  and  displayed  to  the  eyes  of  the  chief,  a  ven- 
erable old  man  on  his  knees  before  a  table  on  which 
stood  a  crucifix,  and  around  him  knelt  a  family  of  young 
people  and  an  aged  dame,  w^ho  were  all  joining  in  the 
sacred  thanksgiving.  The  youth,  without  a  word  drop- 
ped on  his  knees  near  the  door ;  and  making  a  sign  to 
his  companion  (whose  more  costly  garments  could  not 
be  discerned  through  the  clinging  snow)  to  do  the  same, 
Wallace  complied ;  and  as  the  anthems  rose  in  succes- 
sion on  his  ear,  to  which  the  low  breathings  of  the  light- 
ly-touched harp  echoed  its  heavenly  strains,  he  felt  the 
tumult  of  his  bosom  gradually  subside ;  and  when  the 
venerable  sire  laid  down  the  instrument,  and  clasped  his 
hands  in  prayer,  the  natural  pathos  of  his  invocations, 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  59 

and  the  grateful  devotion  with  which  the  young  people 
gave  their  responses,  all  tended  to  tranquillize  his  mind 
into  a  holy  calm. 

At  the  termination  of  the  concluding  prayer,  how 
sweet  were  the  emotions  of  Wallace  when  he  heard 
these  words  uttered  with  augmented  fervour  by  the 
aged  petitioner  1 

"  While  we  thus  thank  thee,  O  gracious  God!  for 
thy  mercies  bestowed  upon  us,  we  humbly  implore 
thee  to  hold  in  thine  almighty  protection  him  by  whose 
arm  thou  hast  wrought  the  deliverance  of  Scotland. 
Let  our  preserver  be  saved  from  his  sins  by  the  blood 
of  Christ !  Let  our  benefactor  be  blest  in  mind,  body, 
and  estate,  and  all  prosper  with  him  that  he  takes  in 
htind !  May  the  good  he  has  dispensed  to  his  bleeding- 
country,  be  returned  four-fold  into  his  own  bosom ; — 
and  may  he  live  to  see  a  race  of  his  own  reaping  the 
harvest  of  his  virtues,  and  adding  fresh  honours  to  the 
already  glorious  name  of  Wallace!" 

Every  mouth  echoed  a  fervent  amen  to  this  prayer: 
and  Vvailace  himself,  inv/ardiy  breathed,  "And  have 
I  not  even  now  sinned.  All -gracious  God  !  in  the  distrac- 
tion of  this  night's  remembrance  ?  I  mourne<l,  I  would 
not  be  comforted.  But  in  thy  mercy,  thou  hast  led  me 
hitherto  see  the  happy  fruits  of  my  labours,  and  I  am 
resigned  and  thankful  1" 

The  sacred  rites  over,  the  father  of  the  family  arose 
from  his  knees;  and  two  girls  jumping  up,  ran  to  the 
other  side  of  the  room,  and  between  them  brought  for- 
v/ard  a  rough  table  covered  with  dishes  and  bread; 
while  the  mother,  taking  off  a  large  pot,  emptied  its 
smoking  contents  into  the  different  vessels.  iMean- 
vvhile,  the  young  man  introducing  the  stranger  to  his 
father,  related  the  accident  of  the  meeting;  and  the 
good  old  shepherd  bidding  him  a  hearty  welcome,  de- 
sired him  to  draw  near  the  fire,  and  partake  of  their 
new-year's  supper. 

"  We  need  the  fire,  I  assure  you,"  cried  the  lad, 
"  for  we  are  both  dripping." 

Wallace  now  advanced  from  the  shadowed  part  of  the 
room  where  he  had  knelt,  and  drawing  towards  the 
light,  certainly  displayed  to  his  host  the  truth  of  his 


4&  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

son's  observation.  Wallace  had  left  the  castle  \vithout 
ids  bonnet;  and  hurrying  on  regardless  of  the  whelm- 
ing storm,  his  hair  was  saturated  with  wet,  and  now 
streamed  in  water  over  his  sho\ilders.  The  good  old 
wife  seeing  that  the  stranger's  situation  was  even 
worse  than  her  son's,  snatched  from  him  the  whiskey- 
bottle,  out  of  which  he  was  swallowing  a  hearty  cordial, 
and  poured  it  over  the  exposed  head  of  her  guest; 
then  ordering  one  of  her  daughters  to  rub  it  dry,  she 
took  off  his  plaid,  and  wringing  it,  huiig  it  to  the  fire. 

During  these  various  operations  for  the  whole  family 
seemed  eager  to  shew  their  hospitality ;  the  old  man  dis- 
Lovered,  not  so  much  by  the  costliness  of  the  materials 
of  his  garments,  as  by  the  noble  mien  and  gentle  man- 
•  icrs  of  the  stranger,  that  he  was  some  chieftain  from 
the  castle.  "  Your  honour,"  said  he,  "  must  pardon 
the  uncourtliness  of  our  ways ;  but  vv^e  give  you  the 
best  we  have ;  and  the  worthy  Lord  Loch-awe  cannot 
do  more." 

Wallace  gave  smiling  answers  to  all  their  remarks 
and  offers  of  service,  lie  p?.rtGoh  of  their  brcth, 
praised  the  good  wife's  cakes,  and  sat  discoursing  with 
tiie  family  with  ail  the  gayety  and  frankness  of  one  of 
themselves.  His  unreserved  manners  opened  every 
Iieart  around  him  :  and,  with  the  most  confidential  free- 
dom, the  venerable  shepherd  related  his  domestic  his- 
tory; and  mentioned  to  him  the  projected  marriages 
of  his  children,  which  he  said  "should  now  take  place, 
since  the  good  Sir  William  Wallace  had  brought  peace 
to  the  land.'' 

Wallace  gi'atified  the  worthy  father,  by  appearing 
to  take  an  interest  in  all  his  narratives ;  and  then  al- 
lowing the  happy  spirits  of  the  young  people  to  break 
in  upon  these  graver  discussions,  he  smiled  with  them  ; 
or  looked  serious  witli  the  garrulous  matron,  who 
turned  the  discourse  to  tales  of  other  times.  He  listen- 
ed with  complacency  to  every  legend  of  witch,  fairy, 
and  ghost;  and  his  enlightened  remarks,  sometimes 
pointed  out  natural  causes  for  the  extraordinary  appear- 
ances she  described ;  or,  at  better  attested  and  less 
equivocal  accounts  of  supernatural  apparitions,  he  ac- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  41 

knowledged,  that  there  are  more  thi?igs  i7i  heaven  and 
earth  than  are  dreamt  of  in  philosophy. 

The  morning  dawned  before  the  tranquillized,  nay, 
happy  Wallace, — happy  in  the  cheerful  innocence  of 
the  scene,  discovered  that  the  night  was  past.  As  the 
grey  morning  gleamed  through  the  wooden  casement, 
Wallace  rose.  "  My  friends,  I  must  leave  you :"  said 
he,  "  there  are  those  not  far  off,  who  may  be  alarmed 
at  my  disappearance ;  for  none  knew  when  I  walked 
abroad  ;  and  unwittingly  I  have  been  charmed  all  these 
hours  to  remain,  enjoying  the  happiness  of  your  circle, 
forgetful  of  the  anxiety  I  have  perhaps  occasioned  in 
my  own/' 

The  old  man  declared  his  intention  of  seeing  him 
over  the  hill.  Wallace  declined  giving  him  that  trou- 
ble ;  saying,  that  as  it  was  day-light,  and  the  snow  had 
ceased,  he  could  easily  retrace  his  steps  to  the  castle. 

"No,  no;"  returned  the  shepherd,  "  and  besides,'' 
said  he,  "  as  I  hear  the  good  Lord  Regent  is  keeping 
the  new-year  with  our  noble  Earl,  who  knows  but  I 
may  get  a  glimpse  of  his  noble  countenance  ;  and  that 
will  be  a  sight  to  tell  of  till  I  die  1'* 

"  Ah  1  God's  blessing  on  his  sweet  face  I"  cried  the 
old  woman,  "  but  I  w^ould  give  all  the  yarn  in  my  muc- 
kle  chest,  to  catch  one  look  of  his  lucky  eye  I  I  war- 
rant you,  witch  nor  fairy  could  never  have  power  to 
harm  me  more.*' 

"  Ah,  father,"  cried  the  eldest  of  the  girls,  blushing; 
"  if  you  go  near  enough  to  him !  Do  you  know  Madgie 
Grant  told  me,  that  if  I  could  but  get  even  the  least 
bit  of  Sir  William  Wallace's  hair,  and  give  it  to  Donald 
Cameron  to  wear  in  a  true-lover's  knot  on  his  breast,, 
no  Southron  will  be  able  to  do  him  harm  as  long  as  he 
lives  1" 

"  And  do  you  believe  that  this  would  protect  your 
lover,  my  pretty  Jeannie  ?  inquired  Wallace^  with  a 
sweet  smile. 

"  Surely,"  she  replied,  "  for  Madgie  is  a  wise  wo- 
man, and  has  the  second  sight/' 

"  Well  then,"  returned  he,  "you  shall  be  gratified. 
For  though  I  must  for  once  contradict  the  testimon)r 
of  a  wise  woman,  and  tell  you  that  nothing  can  reader 
D.  2 


42  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

a  man  absolutely  safe,  but  the  protection  of  heaven, 
yet,  if  a  hair  from  the  head  of  Sir  William  Wallace 
would  please  you  ; — and  a  glance  from  his  eye  gratify 
your  mother; — both  shall  be  satisfied."  And  lifting 
up  the  old  woman's  sheers,  which  lay  on  a  working 
stool  before  him  he  cut  off  5i  golden  lock  from  the 
middle  of  his  head,  and  put  it  into  the  hand  of  Jean- 
nie.  At  this  action,  which  was  performed  with 
such  a  noble  grace  that  not  one  of  the  family  now 
doubted  who  had  been  their  guest,  the  good  dame  fell 
on  her  knees;  and  Jeannie,  with  a  cry  of  joy,  putting 
the  beautiful  lock  into  her  bosom,  followed  her  exam- 
ple ;  and  in  a  moment  all  were  clinging  round  him. 
The  old  man  grasped  his  hand.  "  Bravest  of  men  !" 
cried  he,  "  the  Lord  has  indeed  blest  this  house,  since 
he  has  honoured  it  with  the  presence  of  the  deliverer 
of  Scotland !  My  prayers,  and  the  benedictions  of  all 
good  men,  friend  or  foe,  must  ever  follow  your  foot- 
steps 1" 

Tears  of  pleasure  started  into  the  eyes  of  Wallace- 
He  raised  the  family  one  by  one  from  the  ground,  and 
putting  his  purse  into  the  hand  of  the  dame,  "  There 
my  kind  hostess,"  said  he,  "  let  that  fill  the  chests  of 
your  daughters  on  their  hi'idal  day ;  they  must  receive 
it  as  a  brother's  portion  to  his  sisters ;  for  it  is  with 
fraternal  affection  that  William  Wallace  regards  the 
sons  and  daughters  of  Scotland." 

The  happy  sobs  of  the  old  woman  stopped  the  ex- 
pressions of  her  gratitude :  But  the  youth,  her  son, 
fearing  his  freedom  of  the  night  before  might  have  of- 
fended, stood  abashed  at  a  distance.  Wallace  stretch- 
ed out  his  hand  to  him ;  "  My  good  Archibald,"  cried 
he,  "  hesitate  not  to  approach  one  who  will  always  be 
your  friend.  I  shall  send  from  the  castle  this  day,  suf- 
ficient to  fill  your  bridal  coffers  also." 

Archibald  now  petitioned  to  be  allowed  to  follow  him 

in  his  army "  No,  my  brave  youth,"  replied  the  chief, 

•^  remain  where  you  are,  to  defend  the  spot,  should 
need  be,  where  you  were  born.  Lord  Loch-awe  will 
)!.ead  you  forth  whenever  there  is  occasion ;  and,  mean- 
while, your  duty  is  to  imitate  the  domestic  duties  of 
v.our  worthy  father.     Make  the  neighbouring  valley 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  43 

smile  with  the  fruits  of  your  industry ;  and  raise  a  family 
to  bless  you,  as  you  now  bless  him." 

Wallace,  having  wrapped  himself  in  his  plaid,  now 
withdrew  amidst  the  benedictions  of  the  whole  group  ; 
and  swiftly  re-crossing  the  mountain  heights,  was  soon 
on  the  western  brow  of  Ben  Cruachan  ;  and  in  ten  min- 
utes afterwards,  entered  the  hall  of  Kilchurn  Castle. 
A  few  servants,  only,  remained ;  all  the  rest  of  the 
family  were  gone  to  rest.  The  Earl  and  Graham, 
about  an  hour  after  their  friend's  departure,  had  missed 
him  ;  but  supposing  that  whithersoever  he  was  gone,  he 
would  soon  return,  they  made  no  inquiries  ;  and  when 
the  tempest  began,  on  Edwin  expressing  his  anxiety  to 
know  where  he  was,  one  of  the  servants  said  tliat  he 
was  gone  to  his  own  chamber. — This  answer  satisfied 
everyone;  and  they  all  continued  to  enjoy  the  festivi- 
ties until  the  Countess  of  Loch-awe  made  the  signal 
for  repose. 

Next  morning  when  the  party  met  Wallace  at  the 
breakfast-table,  they  were  not  a  little  surprised  to  hear 
him  recount  the  adventure  of  the  night ;  and  while 
Loch-awe  promised  every  kindness  to  the  shepherd's 
family,  and  a  messenger  was  dispatched  with  a  purse  to 
Archibald,  Edwin  learnt  of  the  Earl's  servant,  that  his 
reason  for  supposing  the  Regent  was  gone  to  his  room, 
arose  from  the  sight  of  his  bonnet  in  the  outer  hall. 
Wallace  was  glad  that  such  an  evidence  had  prevented 
his  friends  being  alarmed  ;  and  retiring  with  Lord  Loch- 
awe,  with  his  usual  equanimity  of  mind  he  resumed  the 
graver  errand  of  his  tour. 

The  hospitable  rites  of  the  season  being  over,  in  the 
course  of  a  few  days  the  Earl  accompanied  his  illustri- 
ous guest  to  make  the  circuit  of  Argyleshire.  At 
Castle-Urqhardt  they  parted  ;  and  Wallace  proceeding 
with  Edwin  and  Graham  and  his  faithful  Lanarkers, 
performed  his  legislative  visits  from  sea  to  sea.  Ha- 
ving traversed,  with  perfect  satisfaction,  the  whole  of 
the  northern  parts  of  the  kingdom^  he  returned  to  Hun- 
ting-tower (^^  on  the  very  morning  that  a  messenger  had 
peached  it  from  Murray.  That  vigilant  chieftain  in- 
formed the  Regent  of  King  Edward's  arrival  from  Flan- 
ders, and  that  he  was  preparing  a  large  army  to  march 
into  Scotland. 


4i  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

"  We  must  meet  him,  then,'*  cried  Wallace,  "  on 
his  own  shoves  ;  and  let  the  horrors  attending  the  seat 
of  war  fall  on  the  country  whose  king  would  bring  de- 
solation to  ours." 


CHAP.  V. 

W' ALL  ACE  sent  messengers  to  the  different  chief- 
tains in  the  Highlands,  and  to  Stirling,  to  order  a  certain 
number  of  men  to  meet  him  in  the  vales  of  Clydesdale 
by  that  day  week.  And  then  proceeding  to  the  coast 
of  Fife,  at  Kinclavin  Castle  where  he  lodged  for  the 
night,  he  received  another  embassy  from  Edward  ;  a 
herald,  accompanied  by  that  Sir  Hugh  le  de  Spencer 
who  had  conducted  himself  so  insolently  on  his  first 
embassage. 

On  his  entering  the  cliamber  where  the  Regent  sat, 
surrounded  by  the  chieftains  who  had  accompanied  him 
from  Perthshire,  Le  de  Spencer  walked  forward ;  and 
before  the  herald  had  used  the  customary  respects,  the 
young  Englishman  advanced  to  Wallace,  and  in  the 
pride  of  a  little  mind,  elated  at  being  empowered  to  in- 
sult with  impunity,  he  broke  forth  :  "  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace, the  contumely  with  which  the  embassadors  of 
Prince  Edward  were  treated,  is  so  resented  by  the 
King  of  England,  that  he  invests  his  own  majesty  in 
my  person,  to  tell  you  that  your  treasons  have  filled  up 
their  measure,  and  that  now,  in  the  plentitude  of  his 
continental  victories,  he  descends  upon  you,  to  annihi- 
late this  rebellious  nation,  and *' 

"Stop,  Sir  Hugh  le  de  Spencer;"  cried  the  herald, 
touching  him  with  his  sceptre;  "  whatever  maybe  the 
denunciations  with  which  the  king  has  intrusted  you, 
you  must  allow  me  to  perform  my  duty  before  you  de- 
clare them! — And  thus  I  utter  the  gracious  message 
which  his  majesty  has  put  into  my  mouth." 

He  then  addressed  Wallace  ;  and  in  the  king's  name 
accusing  him  of  rebellion,  and  of  unfair  and  cruel  de- 
vastations made  in  Scotland  and  in  England  by  himself 
and  his  followers,  promised  him  pardon  for  all,  if  he 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  45 

would  immediately  disband  his  followers  and  acknow- 
ledge his  oftence. 

Wallace  motioned  with  his  hand  for  his  friends  to 
keep  silence,  (for  he  perceived  that  two  or  three  of  the 
most  violent,  were  ready  to  break  forth  in  fierce  defi- 
ance of  King  Edward,)  and  being  obeyed  he  calmly  re- 
plied to  the  herald ;  "  When  we  were  desolate  mour- 
jiers,  your  king  came  to  us  as  a  comforter,  and  he  put 
us  in  chains  1  While  he  is  absent,  I  invade  his  country 
as  an  open  enemy.  I  rifle  your  barns  ;  but  it  is  to  feed 
a  people  whom  his  robberies  had  left  to  perish  !  I 
marched  through  yourlands,  I  made  your  soldiers  fly  be- 
fore me  ;  but  who  that  was  unarmed,  ever  found  the 
Scottish  steel  at  his  breast  ? — And  what  spot  in  all  your 
shores  have  I  made  black  with  the  smoke  of  ruin?  I 
leave  the  people  of  Northumberland  to  judge  between 
me  and  your  monarch.  And  that  he  never  shall  be 
mine,  or  Scotland's,  our  deeds  shall  yet  further  prove  V* 

"If  such  be  your  determination}"  exclaimed  Le  de 
Spencer,  "  then  hear  your  sentence.  King  Edward 
comes  against  you  with  an  army  that  will  reach  from 
sea  to  sea.  Wherever  the  hoofs  of  his  war-horse  strike, 
there  grass  never  grows  again.  The  sword  and  the 
fire  shall  make  a  desert  of  this  devoted  land  ;  and  your 
arrogant  head,  proud  Scot,  shall  bleed  upon  the  scaf- 
fold 1" 

"  He  shall  first  see  my  fires,  and  meet  my  sword,  in 
his  own  fields  ;"  returned  Wallace;  "  and  if  God  con- 
tinue me  life,  I  will  keep  my  Easter  in  England,  in  de- 
spite of  King  Edward  and  of  all  who  bear  armour  in 
his  country  !'* 

As  he  spoke  he  rose  from  his  chair,  and  bowing  his 
head  to  the  herald,  the  Scottish  marshals  conducted 
the  embassadors  from  his  presence.  Le  de  Spencer 
twice  attempted  to  speak,  but  the  marshals  v/ould  not 
allow  him  ;  they  said  that  the  business  of  the  embassy 
was  now  over,  and  that  should  he  presume  further  to 
insult  their  Regent,  the  privilege  of  his  official  charac- 
ter should  not  protect  him  from  the  wrath  of  the  Scots. 
Intimidated  by  the  frowning  brows  and  nervous  arms 
of  all  around,  he  held  his  peace,  and  the  doors  were 
shut  on  him. 


16  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Wallace  foresaw  a  heavy  tempest  to  Scotland,  threat- 
ened by  these  repeated  embassies ;  for  he  perceived 
that  Edward,  by  sending  overtures  which  he  knew  could 
not  be  accepted ;  by  making  a  shew  of  pacific  inten- 
tions; meant  to  throw  the  blame  of  the  continuation  of 
hostilities  upon  the  Scots,  and  so  overcome  the  reluc- 
tance of  his  more  just  nobility  to  further  persecute  a 
people  whom  he  had  made  sufler  so  much ;  and  likewise 
to  change  the  aspect  of  the  Scottish  cause  in  the  eyes 
of  Philip  of  France,  (who  had  lately  sent  congratula- 
tions to  the  Regent  on  the  victory  of  Cambuskenneth,) 
and  by  that  means,  deprive  them  of  a  powerful  ally  and 
zealous  negociator  for  an  honourable  peace. 

To  prevent  this  last  injury,  Wallace  dispatched  a 
quick-sailing  vessel  with  Sir  Alexander  Ramsey,  to  in- 
form King  Philip  of  the  particulars  of  Edward's  propo- 
sals, and  of  his  consequent  persisted  warfare. 

On  the  thirtieth  of  February,  -Sir  William  Wallace 
joined  Lord  Andrew  Murray  on  Bothwell  Moor,  and 
had  the  happiness  of  knowing  that  his  brave  friend  was 
again  lord  of  the  paternal  mansion  which  he  had  so 
lately  lost  for  him.  He  did  not  visit  it.  At  such  a 
crisis  for  Scotland,  he  forbore  to  unnerve  his  mind  by 
awakening  the  griefs  which  lay  slumbering  at  the  bottom 
of  his  heart.  Halbert  came  from  his  convent,  once 
more  to  look  upon  the  beloved  face  of  his  ma,ster.  The 
meeting  cost  Wallace  many  agonizing  sighs;  but  he 
smiled  on  his  faithful  servant.  He  pressed  the  venera- 
ble form  in  his  youthful  arms,  and  promised  him  news 
of  his  life  and  safety.  "  May  I  die,"  cried  the  old  man, 
*'  ere  I  hear  it  is  otherwise  !  But  youth  is  no  warrant 
for  life  ;  the  vigour  of  these  arms  cannot  always  assure 
themselves  of  victory  ;  and  then  should  you  fall,  where 
is  our  country  ?"  "  With  better  than  mine  ;"  returned 
the  chief;  "in  the  arms  of  God.  He  will  light  for 
Scotland  when  Wallace  is  laid  low,  if  my  fall  be  the  de- 
cree of  Heaven."  Halbert  wept.  But  the  trumpet 
sounded  for  the  field.  He  blessed  his  lord,  and  they 
parted  for  ever. 

The  troops  from  the  Highlands  had  joined  those 
from  Sterliiig;  and  Wallace  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  himself  at  the  bead  of  thirty  thousand  well-ap- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  47 

pointed  men,  all  eager  for  the  fight.  On  the  veiy  even- 
ing of  his  arrival  at  Bothwell,  (for  he  would  not  delay 
an  hour)  he  set  forth  through  a  country  now  bud- 
eiing  with  all  the  charms  of  the  cultivation  he 
had  spread  over  it.  He  had  hardly  set  out  before  he 
was  met  by  a  courier  from  Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick,  who 
informed  him,  that  the  Northumbrians  being  apprized 
of  King  Edward's  approach,  had  assembled  in  immense 
bodies,  and  having  crossed  the  Debateable  land  in  the 
night,  had  driven  his  Eustace  Maxwell  with  great  loss, 
into  Carlavorock ;  had  taken  several  minor  forts;  and 
though  harassed  by  Kirkpatrick,  (who  sent  this  dis- 
patch) were  ravaging  the  country  as  far  as  Dumfries. 
The  letter  of  the  brave  knight  added,  "  these  Southron 
thieves  blow  the  name  of  Edward  before  them,  and 
with  its  sound  have  spell-bound  the  courage  of  every 
soul  I  meet.  Come  then,  valiant  Wallace,  and  conjure 
it  down  again  ;  else  I  shall  not  be  surprised  if  the  men 
of  Annandale  bind  me  hand  and  foot,  and  deliver  me  up 
to  Algernon  Percy  (a  brother  of  the  man  you  beat,  and 
who  commands  this  inroad,)  to  purchase  mercy  to  their 
cowardice." 

Wallace  made  no  reply  to  this  message,  but  calling 
to  his  men  that  the  enemy  was  in  Dumfriesshire,  every 
foot  was  then  put  to  the  speed,  and  in  a  short  time  they 
arrived  on  the  ridgy  summits  of  the  eastern  mountains  of 
Clydesdale.  His  troops  halted  for  rest  near  the  village 
of  Biggar;  and  it  being  night,  he  ascended  to  the  top 
of  the  highest  craig,  and  lit  a  fire,  whose  far-streaming 
light  he  hoped  would  send  the  news  of  his  approach  to 
Annandale.  The  air  being  calm  and  clear,  the  signal 
rose  in  such  a  long  pyramid  of  flame,  that  distant  shouts 
of  rejoicing  were  heard  breaking  the  deep  silence  of 
the  prospect.  A  moment  after,  a  hundred  answering 
beacons  burnt  along  the  horizon.  Torthorald  saw  the 
propitious  blaze ;  he  shewed  it  to  his  terrified  follow- 
ers ; — and,  from  that  hour,  the  mountain  from  which  it 
streamed  has  been  called  Tinto,  the  hill  ofjire^  and  is 
regarded  by  the  people  with  a  devotion  almost  amount- 
ing to  idolatry.  (') 

The  day  dawned  upon  Wallace  as  he  crossed  the 
heights  overDrumlanrig;  and  pouring  down  his  thou- 


48  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

sands  over  the  almost  deserted  vallies  of  Annandait, 
like  a  torrent  he  swept  the  invaders  back  upon  their 
steps ;  and  taking  young  Percy  prisoner,  left  him  shut 
up  in  Lochmaben,  while  he  drove  his  flying  vassals  far 
beyond  the  Cheviots. 

Annandale  again  free,  he  "^^t  into  its  various  quarters; 
and  summoning  the  pe^j^g|H|^lio  now  crept  from  their 
caves  and  woods,  to  shelte^iider  his  shield)  he  reprov- 
ed them  for  their  cowardice,  and  shewed  them,  that  un- 
less every  man  possess  a  courage  equal  to  his  general, 
he  must  expect,  before  long",  to  fall  again  under  the 
yoke  of  the  enemy.  "Faith  in  a  leader  is  good,**  said 
he,  "  but  not  such  a  faith  as  leaves  him  all  to  do,  with- 
out yourselves  rendering  that  assistance  to  your  own, 
preservation  which  Heaven  itself  commands.  I  am  but 
the  head  of  the  battle,  you  are  the  arms :  If  you  shrink, 
I  fall,  and  the  cause  is  ruined.  When  absent  from  you 
in  person,  I  left  my  guiding  mind  with  you  ;  I  gave  the 
lords  of  Carlavorock  and  Torthorald  directions  how  to 
repel  the  foe,  and  yet  you  fled.  Had  I  been  here,  and 
you  done  the  same,. the  like  must  have  been  the  conse- 
quence. What  think'ybiiis  in  my  arm,  that  I  should 
alone  stem  youlr;  ^tj^^i?^'  The  expectation  is  extra- 
vagant and  fala|.*  "Sw  follow  my  call  to  battle,  you 
fight  valiantly,  ^d  I  win  the  day.  Respect,  then,  your- 
selves. And  believe,  that  you  are  the  sinews,  the 
iierves,  the  strength  of  §ir  William  Wallace  !  Disho- 
nour not  the  God  v^ho  gave  you  to  your  country,  by 
flying  from  your  post ;  but  be  confident  that  while  the 
standard  of  liberty  is  before  you,  you  fight  under  his 
banner.  Sec  how  I,  in  that  faith,  drove  these  conquer- 
ing Northumbrians  before  me  like  frightened  roes  I 
You  might,  and  must  do  the  same,  or  the  sword  of 
Wallace  is  drawn  in  vain.  Partake  my  spirit,  brethren 
of  Annandale,  fight  as  stoutly  over  my  grave  as  by  my 
side,  or  before  the  year  ends,  you  will  again  be  the 
slaves  of  Edward." 

Such  language,  while  it  covered  the  cheeks  of  the 
Annandalers  with  shame,  awoke  a  general  emulation 
in  every  heart  to  efface  with  honourable  deeds  the  me- 
mory of  their  disgrace.  With  augmented  forces  he 
therefore  marched  into  CumbeHand ;  and  having  drawn 


THE  SCOTTISH    CHIEFS.  49 

up  his  array  between  a  river,  and  a  high  ground  which 
he  covered  with  arches,  he  stood  prepared  to  meet  the 
approach  of  King  Edward.  But  Edward  did  not  appear 
till  late  in  the  next  day ;  and  then  the  Scots  descried 
his  glittering  legions  advancing  from  the  horizon,  to 
pitch  their  vangard  on  the  plain  of  Stanmore.  The 
aim  of  Wallace  was  to  draw  the  king  towards  the  Scot- 
tish lines,  where,  at  certain  distances,  he  had  dug  deep 
pits,  and  covering  them  lightly  with  twigs  and  loose 
grass,  had  left  them  as  traps  for  the  Southron  cavalry ; 
for  in  cavalry,  he  was  told  by  his  spies,  would  consist 
the  chief  strength  of  Edward's  army.  The  waste  in 
which  Wallace  had  laid  the  adjoining  counties,  render- 
ed the  provisioning  of  so  large  a  host  very  difficult ;  and 
as  it  was  composed  of  a  mixed  multitude  from  every 
land  on  which  the  king  of  England  had  set  his  invading 
foot,  harmony  could  pot  be  expected  to  continue  long 
amongst  its  leaders.  Therefore,  as  the  Scottish  Re- 
gent saw  that  his  enemy  held  back,  as  if  he  wished  to 
draw^  him  from  his  advantageous  position,  he  determined 
to  shew  him  that  he  would  not  stir,  although  he  might 
'seem  to  be  struck  with  awe  of  so  great  an  adversary. 

To  this  end  he  offered  him  peace,  hoping,  either  to 
obtain  what  he  asked,  (v/hich  he  did  not  deem  very  pro- 
bable) or  by  filling  Edward  with  the  idea  of  his  fear, 
urge  him  to  precipitate  himself  forward,  to  avoid  the 
dangers  of  a  prolonged  sojourn  in  so  barren  a  country, 
and  to  take  Wallace,  as  he  might  think,in  his  panic.  In- 
structing his  heralds  what  to  say,  he  sent  them  on  to 
Roycross,  ^^^  near  which  the  tent  of  the  King  of  En- 
gland was  pitched.  Edward,  supposing  that  his  enemy 
was  now  at  his  feet,  and  ready  to  beg  the  terms  he  had 
before  rejected,  admitted  the  embassadors,  and  bade 
them  deliver  their  message.  Without  farther  parley 
the  chief  herald  spoke. 

«  Thus  saith  Sir  William  Wallace :  Were  it  not  that 
Ihe  kings  and  the  nobles  of  the  realm  of  Scotland,  have 
ever  sought  redress  of  injuries,  before  they  sought  to 
take  revenge,  you.  King  of  England  and  invader  of  our 
country,  should  not  now  behold  orators  in  your  camp 
talking  of  concord,  but  a  mighty  army  in  battle  aijrav 

VOL.  II.  E  , 


30  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

advancing  to  the  onset.  Our  Lord  Regent  being  of  the 
ancient  opinion  of  his  renowned  predecessors,  that  the 
greatest  victories  are  never  of  such  advantage  to  a  con- 
queror, as  an  honourable  and  bloodlessly-obtained 
peace ;  sends  to  offer  this  peace  to  you,  at  the  price 
of  restitution.  The  lives  you  have  rifled  from  us, 
you  cannot  restore;  but  the  noble  Lord  Douglass, 
whom  you  now  unjustly  detain  a  prisoner,  we  demand ; 
and  that  your  majesty  will  retract  those  claims  on  our 
monarchy  which  never  had  existence,  till  ambition  be- 
got them  on  the  basest  treachery.  Grant  these  just 
requisitions  and  we  lay  down  our  arms  ;  but  continue 
to  deny  them,  and  our  nation  is  ready  to  rise  to  a  man, 
and  with  heart  and  hand  avenge  the  injuries  we  have 
sustained.  You  have  wasted  our  lands,  burnt  our  towns, 
and  imprisoned  our  nobility.  Without  consideration 
of  age  or  condition,  women,  children,  and  feeble  old 
men,  have,  unresisting,  fallen  by  your  sword.  And  why 
was  all  this  ?  Did  our  confidence  in  your  honour  offend 
you,  that  you  put  our  chieftains  in  durance,  and  depriv- 
ed our  yeomanry  of  their  lives?  Did  the  benedictions 
with  which  our  prelates  hailed  your  arrival  as  the  re- 
spected arbitrator  between  our  princes,  raise  your  ire, 
that  you  burnt  the  churches  over  their  heads,  and  slew 
them  on  their  own  altars  ?  These,  OI  king,  were  thy 
deeds ;  and  for  these,  William  Wallace  is  in  arms. 
But  yield  us  the  peace  we  ask;  withdraw  from  our 
quarters;  relinquish  your  unjust  pretensions;  and  we 
■will  once  more  consider  Edward  of  England  as  the  kins- 
man of  Alexander  the  third,  and  his  subjects  as  the 
friends  and  allies  of  our  realm.'* 

Edward,  not  in  the  least  moved  with  this  speech, 
turned  towards  De  "V^alence,  who  stood  pn  his  right 
hand,  and  giving  him  a  glance  which  spoke  the  con- 
tempt in  which  he  held  the  embassy,  coolly  answered, 
"  Your  leader,  intoxicated  by  a  transitory  success,  is  vain 
enough  to  suppose  that  he  can  discomfit  the  King  of 
England,  as  he  has  done  his  unworthy  officers,  by  fierce 
and  insolent  words ;  but  we  are  not  so  weak  as  to  be . 
overthrown  by  a  breath,  nor  so  base  as  to  bear  argument 
from  a  rebeL     I  come  to  claim  my  own;  to  assert  my 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  51 

supremacy  over  Scotland  : — and  it  shall  acknowledge 
its  liege  lord,  or  be  left  a  desert  without  a  living  crea- 
ture to  say  this  was  a  kingdom.  Depart,  this  is  my  an- 
swer to  you;  your  leader  shall  receive  his  at  the  point 
of  my  lance." 

Wallace,  who  did  not  expect  a  more  temperate  re- 
ply, had  ah'eady  arranged  his  men  for  the  onset. 
Lord  Bothwell,  and  Murry  his  valiant  son,  took  the  lead 
on  the  left  wing;  Sir  Eustace  Maxwell  and  Kirkpa- 
trick  commanded  on  the  right.  Graham  held  the  re- 
serve behind  the  woods  ;  and  the  Regent  himself,  witli 
EdAvin  and  his  brave  standard-bearer,  occupied  the 
centre.  On  the  return  of  his  embassadors,  he  repeated 
to  his  troops  the  message  they  brought :  and  while  he 
stood  at  the  head  of  the  lines,  he  exhorted  them  to  re- 
member that  on  that  day  the  eyes  of  all  Scotland  would 
be  upon  them.  They  were  the  first  of  their  country 
who  had  gone  forth  to  meet  the  tyrant  in  a  pitched  bat- 
tle ;  and  in  proportion  to  the  danger  they  confronted, 
the  greater  would  be  their  meed  of  glory.  "  But  it  is 
not  merely  for  renown  that  you  are  called  upon  to  fight 
this  day,"  said  he,  "  your  rights,  your  homes  are  at 
stake.  You  have  no  hope  of  security  for  your  lives, 
but  in  an  unswerving  determination  to  keep  the  &eld ; 
and  let  the  world  F^ee  how  much  more  might  lies  in  the 
arms  of  a  few  men  contending  for  their  country  and 
hereditary  liberties,  than  in  hosts  which  seek  for  blood 
and  spoil.  Slavery  and  freedom  lie  before  you  I  Shrink 
but  one  backward  step,  and  yourselves  are  in  bondage, 
your  wives  become  the  prey  of  violence.  Be  firm : 
Trust  him  who  blesses  the  righteous  cause,  and  victory 
will  crown  your  toils  I" 

Edward,  though  affecting  to  despise  his  young  oppo- 
nent, was  too  good  a  general  really  to  contemn  any 
enemy  who  had  so  often  proved  himself  worthy  of  re- 
spect :  and,  therefore,  when  he  placed  himself  in  the 
van  of  his  numerous  army,  he  did  not  fail  to  set  before 
them  not  only  the  spoil  they  should  grin  on  the  first 
defeat  of  the  Scots,  but  also  the  property  they  might 
acquire  by  the  sequestration  of  the  country.  By  de- 
claring it  his  determination  to  put  all  the  Scottish 
chieftains  to  death,  and  to  transfer  their  estates  to  hia 


52  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

conquering  officers,  he  stimulated  their  avarice  as  well 
as  love  of  fame  ;  and  with  every  passion  in  arms,  they 
i'ushed  to  the  combat. 

Wallace  stood  unmoved. — Not  a  bow  was  drawn  till 
the  impetuous  squadrons,  in  full  charge  towards  the 
flanks  of  the  Scottish  army,  fell  into  the  pits  :  then  it 
was  that  the  archers  on  the  hill  launched  their  arrows; 
the  first  fallen  horses  were  instantly  overwhelmed  by 
others,  who,  in  their  career,  could  not  be  checked,  but 
were  precipitated  over  their  companions.  New  showers 
of  darts  rained  upon  them,  and  sticking  into  their 
flesh,  made  them  plunge,  and  roll  upon  their  riders; 
while  others,  who  were  wounded,  but  had  not  fallen, 
flew  back  in  rage  of  pain,  upon  the  advancing  infantry. 
The  confusion  now  became  so  threatening,  that  the 
king  thought  it  necessary  immediately  in  person  to 
attack  the  main  body  of  his  adversary,  which  yet 
stood  inactive.  Spurring  his  horse,  he  ordered  his 
troops  to  press  on  over  the  struggling  heaps  be- 
fore them;  and  being  obeyed  with  much  difficulty  and 
great  loss,  he  passed  the  first  range  of  pits;  but  a  se- 
cond and  a  wider  awaited  him ;  and  there  seeing  his  men 
"i"k  into  them  by  hundreds,  he  beheld  the  whole  army 
of  Wallace  close  in  upon  them.     Terrific  was  now  the 

havoc. The  very  numbers  of  the  Southrons,  and  the 

mixed  discipline  of  their  army,  proved  its  bane.  In 
the  tumult  they  hardly  understood  the  orders  which 
Avere  given  ;  and  some  mistaking  them,  acted  so  en- 
tirely contrary  to  the  movements  intended,  that  Ed- 
ward, galloping  from  one  end  of  the  field  to  the  other, 
(while  his  officers  trembled  at  every  step  he  took,  for 
fear  that  some  of  the  secret  pits  should  ingulf  him,) 
appeared  like  a  frantic  mzm,  regardless  of  every  per- 
sonal danger,  so  that  he  could  but  fix  others  to  front 
the  same  tempest  of  death  with  himself.  But  at  this 
juncture,  when,  making  a  desperate  attempt  to  recover 
the  day,  he  rallied  part  of  his  distracted  army,  and 
drove  it  with  all  its  force  against  the  centre,  where  the 
white  plume  of  Wallace  shewed  that  he  commanded  ; 
the  reserve  under  Graham  charged  him  in  flank  :  and 
the  Scottish  archers  redoubling  their  discharge  of 
artillery,  the  Flanderkins,  who  were  in  the  van  of  Ed* 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.      '  53 

ward,  suddenly  giving  way  with  cries  of  terror,  the 
amazed  king  found  himself  obliged  to  retreat,  or  to 
run  the  risk  of  being  taken.  He  gave  a  signal,  the 
first  of  the  kind  he  had  ever  sounded  in  his  life ;  and 
drawing  his  English  troops  about  him,  fell  back  in  tole- 
rable order  beyond  the  confines  of  his  camp. 

The  Scots  were  eager  to  pursue  him,  but  Wallace 
said,  "  Let  us  not  hunt  the  lion  till  he  stand  at  bay. 
He  will  retire  far  enough  from  the  Scottish  borders, 
without  our  leaving  this  vantage  ground  to  drive  him." 

What  Wallace  said,  came  to  pass.  Soon  no  vestige 
of  a  Southron  soldier,  but  the  dead  which  strewed  the 
road  was  to  be  ?jeen  from  side  to  side,  of  the  wide  ho- 
rizon. And  p,L  detachment  of  the  Scots  proceeding  to 
the  royal  c?aTip,  brought  away  spoil  of  great  variety 
and  value.  The  tent  of  King  Edward,  and  its  costly 
furniture,  was  that  day  sent  to  Stirling  as  a  trophy  of 
the  victory. 


CHAP.  VI. 

JMOST  of  the  chieftains  from  the  north,  and  around, 
had  drawn  to  Stirling  to  be  nearer  intelligence  from 
the  borders.  They  were  aware  that  this  meethig  be- 
tween Wallace  and  Edward  was  the  crisis  of  their 
fate.  The  few  who  remained  in  the  citadel,  of  those 
who  had  borne  the  brunt  of  the  opening  of  this  glo- 
rious revolution  for  their  country,  were  full  of  spirits, 
and  the  most  sanguine  expectations.  They  had  seen 
the  prowess  of  their  leader,  they  had  shared  the 
glory  of  his  destiny,  and  they  feared  not  that  Edward 
would  deprive  him  of  one  ray.  But  thoy  who  at  the 
utmost  wilds  of  the  Highlands  had  only  heard  his  fame, 
though  they  had  afterwards  seen  him  amongst  them- 
selves, reducing  the  mountain  savage  to  be  a  civilized 
man  and  a  disciplined  soldier,  though  they  had  felrthe 
effects  of  his  military  successes,  yet  they  doubted  how 
his  fortunes  might  stand  the  shock  of  Edward's  happy 
star.  The  lords  whom  he  had  released  from  the  iouth- 
ron  prisons  were  all  of  the  same  dismayed  opiuion;  fo^^ 
e2 


34.  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

tliey  knew  what  numbers  Edward  could  bring  against 
the  Scottish  power,  and  how  hitherto  unrivalled  was 
his  skill  in  the  field.  "  Now/'  thought  Lord  Bade- 
noch,  "  will  this  brave  Scot  find  the  diff'erence  between 
fighting  with  the  officers  of  a  king,  and  a  king  himself, 
contending  for  what  he  determines  shall  be  apart  of  his 
dominions  1"  And  resolving  never  to  fall  into  the 
hands  of  Edward  again,  (for  the  conduct  of  Wallace 
had  made  the  Earl  ashamed  of  his  long  submission  to 
the  usurpation  of  rights  to  which  he  had  a  claim,)  he 
ordered  a  vessel  to  be  ready  in  the  mouth  of  the 
Forth,  to  take  him,  as  soon  as  the  news  of  the  Regent's 
defeat  should  arrive,  far  from  the  sad  consequences,  to 
the  quiet  asylum  of  France. 

The  meditations  of  Athol,  Buchan,  and  March, 
were  of  a  difi*erent  tendency.  It  was  their  design,  on 
the  earliest  intimation  of  such  intelligence,  to  set 
forth,  and  be  the  first  to  throw  themselves  at  the  feet 
of  Edward  and  acknowledge  him  their  sovereign. 
Thus  with  various  projects  in  their  heads,  which  none 
but  the  three  last,  breathed  to  each  other,  were  severtil 
hundred  chieftains  tisscmbled  round  the  Earl  of  Mai' 
at  the  moment  when  Edwin  Ruthven,  glowing  with  all 
the  effulgence  of  his  general's  glory  and  his  own,  rush- 
ed into  the  hall,  and  throwing  the  royal  standard  of 
'^.ngland  on  the  ground,  exclaimed,  "  There  lies  the 
supremacy  of  King  Edward  !'* 

Every  man  started  on  his  feet.  "  You  do  not  mean," 
cried  Athol,  "that  King  Edward  has  been  beaten?" 
''  He  has  been  beaten,  and  driven  off  the  field !"  re- 
lumed Edwin.  "  These  dispatches,  added  he,  laying 
them  on  the  table  before  his  uncle,  who  stood  in  speech- 
less gratitude  looking  up  to  heaven ;  "  will  relate  every 
particular.  A  hard  battle  our  Regent  has  fought,  for 
our  enemies  were  numberless ;  but  a  thousand  good 
angels  were  his  allies;  and  Edward  himself  fled.  I  saw 
the  king,  after  he  had  thrice  rallied  his  troops  and 
brought  them  to  the  charge,  turn  his  steed  to  fly.  It 
was  at  that  moment,  I  wounded  his  standard-bearer,  and 
seized  this  dragon." 

"  Thou  art  worthy  of  thy  general,  brave  Ruthven  ;'' 
said  Badenoch  to  Edwin  ;  "  by  the  calling  forth  of  such 
spirits,  I  augur  that  great  thiugs  are  intended  by  hea- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  55 

ven  for  this  nation !"  "  James,"  added  he,  addressing 
his  eldest  son,  who  had  just  arrived  from  France,  "  you 
must  equal  this  boy  in  warlike  deeds,  or  you  will  dis- 
grace your  royal  blood." 

The  you.iger  chieftains  crowded  round  to  congratu- 
late Edwin,  and  to  ask  him  many  questions.  Lord 
Mar  opened  the  dispatches,  and  finding  a  circumstan- 
tial narrative  of  the  battle,  with  accounts  of  the  previ- 
ous embassies,  he  read  them  aloud.  Their  contents  ex- 
cited a  varity  of  emotions.  When  the  nobles  heard  that 
Edward  had  offered  Wallace  the  crown ;  when  they 
found  that  he  had,  by  vanquishing  that  powerful  mo- 
narch, subdued  even  the  soul  of  the  man  who  had  hi- 
therto held  them  all  in  awe;  though  in  the  sime  breath 
they  read  that  their  Regent  had  refused  royalty,  and 
was  now,  as  a  servant  of  the  people,  preparing  to 
strengthen  the  borders,  before  he  would  return  to  what 
he  deemed  the  capital  of  the  kingdom ;  yet  the  most 
unreasonable  suspicions  awoke  in  almost  every  breast. 
The  eagle  flight  of  his  glory,  seemed  to  have  raised 
him  so  above  their  heads,  so  beyond  their  power  to  re- 
strain or  to  elevate,  that  an  envy,  dark  as  Erebus;  a. 
jealousy  which  at  once  annihilated  every  grateful  senti- 
ment, passed  like  electricity  from  heart  to  heart.  The 
eye  turning  from  one  to  the  other,  explained  what  no 
lip  dared  yet  to  utter.  A  dead  silence  reigned,  while  the 
fell  deemon  of  hatred  was  taking  possession  of  every 
breast;  and  none  but  the  lords  Mar,  Badenoch,  and 
Loch-awe,  escaped  the  black  contagion. 

When  the  meeting  broke  up,  and  Lord  ]V|ar,  at  the 
Lead  of  the  officers  of  the  garrison,  with  a  herald  hold- 
ing the  banner  of  Edward  beneath  the  colours  of  Scot- 
land, rode  forth  to  proclaim  to  the  country  the  decisive 
victory  of  its  Regent,  Badenoch  and  Loch-awe  hasten- 
£d  to  carry  the  tidings  to  Snawdoun.  The  rest  of  the 
chiefs  dispersed.  But,  as  if  actuated  by  one  spirit, 
they  soon  grew  together  in  groups,  whispering  among 
themselves;  "He  refused  the  crov/n  offered  to  him  in 
the  field  by  the  people;  he  rejected  it  from  Edward  ; 
because  he  would  reign  uncontrolled.  He  will  now 
seize  it  as  a  conqueror,  and  we  shall  have  an  upstart's 
foot  upon  our  necks.  If  we  are  to  be  slaves,  let  us 
have  a  tyrant  of  our  own  choosing." 


56  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

As  the  trumpets  before  Lord  M-^r  blew  the  loud  ac- 
claim of  triumph,  Athol  said  to  Buchan,  "  Cousin,  that 
is  but  the  forerunner  of  what  we  shall  hear  to  announce 
the  usurpation  of  this  Wallace.  And  shall  we  sit  tame- 
ly by,  and  have  our  birthright  wrested  from  us  by  a  man 
of  yesterday  ? — No,  if  the  race  of  Alexander  be  not  to 
occupy  the  throne  of  Scotland,  let  us  not  hesitate  be- 
tween the  monarch  of  a  mighty  nation  and  a  low-born 
tyrant;  between  him  who  will  at  least  gild  our  chains 
with  chivalric  honours,  and  the  upstart  whose  domina- 
tion will  be  as  debasing  as  severe  1" 

Murnmrings  such  as  these,  went  from  chief  to 
chief,  and  descended  to  the  minor  barons,  who  held 
lands  in  fee  of  these  more  sovereign  lords.  Petty  in- 
terests extinguished  gratitude  for  general  benefits; 
and  by  secret  meetings,  at  the  heads  of  which  were 
Athol,  Buchan,  and  March,  a  conspiracy  was  soon 
formed  to  overset  the  power  of  Wallace.  Their  de- 
sign was  to  invite  Edward  once  more  to  take  posses- 
sion of  the  kingdom;  and  to  accomplish  this  with  cer- 
tainty, they  determined  to  affect  a  warm  zeal  for  the 
Regent;  and  March,  as  a  proof  of  his,  was  to  ask  Wal- 
lace to  send  him  to  Dunbar,  as  governor  of  theLothi- 
ans,  and  to  hold  the  ever  refractory  Soulis  in  check. 
He  was  to  offer  his  service  as  an  alleviation  to  the 
cares  of  Lord  Dundaff  who  held  Berwick,  and  who 
must  find  that  place  a  sufficient  charge  for  his  age  and 
comparative  inactivity ;  "And  then,"  cried  the  false 
Cospatrick^'^  "  when  I  am  fixed  at  Dunbar,  Edward 
may  come  round  from  Newcastle  to  that  port ;  and  by 
my  management  he  shall  march  unmolested  to  Stir- 
ling, and  may  seize  the  usurper  on  his  very  throne.'' 

This  advice  met  with  full  approval  from  these  dai'k 
incendiaries;  and  as  their  meetings  were  usually  held 
at  night,  they  walked  forth  in  the  day  with  cheerful 
countenances,  and  joined  in  the  general  rejoicings. 
They  feared  to  hint  even  a  word  of  their  inter.tions  to 
the  LordBadenoch  ;  for,  on  Buchan  expressing  to  him 
his  discontent  at  such  homage  being  paid  to  a  man  so 
much  their  inferior,  his  answer  was  ;  "  Had  we  acted 
worthy  of  our  birth.  Sir  William  Wallace  never  could 
have  had  the  opportunity  to  rise  upon  out  disgrace. 
But,  as  it  is,  we  must  submit,  or  bow  to  treachery  in- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  6-7 

stead  of  virtue."  This  reply  determined  them  to  keep 
their  proceedings  secret  from  him ;  and  also  from 
Lady  Mar ;  for  both  Lord  Buchan  and  Lord  Athol  had 
at  different  times  listened  to  the  fond  dreams  of  her 
love  and  ambition.  They  had  flattered  her  with  enter- 
ing into  her  designs  :  Athol,  gloomily  affected  ac- 
quiescence, that  he  might  render  himself  master  of  all 
tiat  was  in  her  mind,  and  perhaps  in  that  of  her  lover; 
for  he  did  not  doubt  that  Wallace  was  as  guilty  as  her 
wishes  would  have  made  him:  and  Buchan,  ever  ready 
to  yield  to  the  perii^asions  of  women,  was  not  likely  to 
refuse,  when  his  fair  cousin  promised  him,  in  case  of 
success,  all  the  pleasures  of  the  gayest  court  in  Europe. 

Thus  were  they  situated,  when  the  news  of  Wallace's 
decisive  victory,  distancing  all  their  means  to  raise 
him  who  was  now  at  the  pinnacle  of  power,  determined 
the  dubious,  at  once  to  be  his  mortal  enemies. 

Lord  Badenoch  had  listened  with  a  different  temper, 
to  the  first  breathings  of  I..ady  Mar  on  her  favorite  sub- 
ject. He  told  her,  if  the  nation  chose  to  make  their 
benefactor,  king,  he  should  not  oppose  it;  because  he 
thought  that  none  of  the  blood-royal  deserved  to  wear 
the  crown,  which  they  had  all  consented  to  hold  in  fee 
of  Edward.  But  that  he  would  never  promote  by  jj--,, 
trigue,  an  election  which  would  rob  his  own  posterity 
of  their  inheritance.  And  to  the  hints  she  gave  of  her 
being  one  day  the  wife  of  Wallace,  he  turned  on  her 
with  a  frown  at  the  intimation,  and  said,  "  Cousin,  be- 
ware how  you  allow  so  guilty  an  idea  to  take  possession 
of  your  heart  I  It  is  the  parent  of  dishonour  and  death. 
And  did  I  think  that  Sir  William  Wallace  were  capa- 
ble of  sharing  your  wishes,  I  v/ould  be  the  first  to  aban- 
don his  standard.  But  I  believe  him  too  virtuous  to 
look  on  a  married  woman  with  the  eyes  of  passion  ;  and 
to  hold  the  houses  of  Mar  and  Cummin  in  too  high  a 
respect,  to  breathe  an  illicit  sigh  in  the  ear  of  my 
kinswoman." 

Lady  Mar,  seeing  that  she  could  not  make  the  im- 
pression she  desired  on  the  mind  of  this  severe  relative, 
spoke  to  him  no  more  on  the  subject.  And  Lord 
Badenoch,  ignorant  that  she  had  imparted  her  criminal 
project  to  his  brother  and  cousin,  from  this  silence, 


50  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

believed  that  his  reproof  had  performed  her  cure,  and 
therefore  made  no  hesitation  to  be  the  first  who  should 
go  to  Snawdoun  to  communicate  to  her  the  brilliant  dis- 
patches of  the  Reg-ent,  and  to  declare  the  freedom  of 
Scotland  to  be  now  almost  absolutely  secured.  He  and 
Lord  Loch-awe  went  together ;  but  the  fleet  steps  of 
Edwin  would  have  out-run  them,  had  not  the  latter 
caught  him  by  the  cloak,  and  exclaimed,  "  Hold,  ray 
young  friend  ;  let  us  at  least  witness  the  sweet  smiles 
your  news  will  spread  over  so  many  lovely  mouths." 

Edwin  joined  them,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they  arrived 
at  the  palace.  The  moment  the  Countess  heard  the 
name  of  her  nephew  announced,  she  made  a  sign  to 
her  ladies  to  withdraw  ;  and  starting  forward  at  his 
entrance,  "  Speak  V*  cried  she,  "  tell  me,  Edwin,  is  the 
Regent  still  a  conqueror  ?"  "  Where  are  my  mother  and 
Helen,"  replied  he,  "  to  share  my  tidings  ?''  *'  Then 
they  are  good  i"  exclaimed  Lady  Mar ;  and  sending  a 
person  in  waiting,  for  Lady  Ruthven  and  her  daughter- 
in-law,  she  turned  again  towards  Edwin  with  one  of  her 
most  bewitching  smiles  ;  for  the  proud  anticipation  of 
all  her  wishes  now  triumphed  in  her  eyes;  and  patting 
him  on  the  head,  said,  "  Ah  !  you  sly  one,  like  your 
chief,  you  know  vour  power  1"  "  And  like  hlvci  I  exer- 
cise it,'*  replied  he,  laughing,  "  and  therefore  I  keep 
not  your  ladyship  a  moment  longer  in  suspence,  for 
here  is  a  letter  from  the  Regent  himself"  He  pre- 
sented it  as  he  spoke,  and  she  catching  it  from  him, 
turned  round,  and  pressing  h  rapturously  to  her  lips  (it 
being  the  first  time  she  had  ever  received  a  line  from 
him)  she  eagerly  ran  over  its  brief  contents.  While 
she  was  re-perusing  and  re-perusing  it,  for  she  could 
not  tear  her  eyes  from  the  beloved  characters,  Lady 
Ruthven  and  Helen  entered  the  room.  The  former 
hastened  forward  ;  the  latter  trembled  as  she  moved, 
for  she  did  not  yet  know  the  information  which  her  cou- 
sin brought.  But  the  first  glance  of  his  face  told  her 
that  all  was  safe  ;  and  as  he  broke  from  his  mother's 
embrace,  to  clasp  Helen  in  his  arms,  she  fell  upon  his 
neck,  and  with  a  shower  of  tears,  whispered,  "  Wallace 
lives?  is  well?"— "As  you  would  wish  him;"  rc- 
whispered  he,  "  and  with  Edward  at  his  feet." — <*  Thank 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  59 

God,  thank  God  1"  As  she  spoke  in  a  louder  tone,  Lady 
Ruthven,  with  her  arms  folded  round  them  both,  with 
affectionate  impatience  exclaimed, — "  But  how  is  our 
Regent  ?  Speak,  Edwin  !  How  is  the  delight  of  all 
hearts  ?" — "  Still  the  Lord  of  Scotland ;"  answered  he, 
"  the  invincible  dictator  of  her  enemies  ! — The  puis- 
sant Edward-has  acknowledged  the  power  of  Sir  Wil- 
liam Wallace ;  and  after  being  beaten  on  the  plain  of 
Stanmore,  is  now  making  the  best  of  his  way  towards 
his  own  capital." 

Lady  Mar  again  and  again  pressed  the  cold  letter  of 
Wallace  to  her  burning  bosom  : — "  The  Regent  does 
not  mention  these  matters  in  his  letter  to  me/'  said  she, 
casting  an  exulting  glance  over  the  glowing  face  of 
Helen.  She,  without  observing  it,  continued  to  listen 
to  Edwin,  who,  with  joyous  animation,  related  every 
particular  that  had  befallen  Wallace,  from  the  time  of 
his  rejoining  him,  to  that  very  moment.  The  Countess 
heard  all  with  complacency,  till  he  mentioned  the  issue 
•f  the  conference  with  Edward's  first  embassadors. 
"  Fool  I"  exclaimed  she  to  herself,  "  thus  to  throw 
away  a  golden  opportunity  that  may  never  return  1" — 
Edwin,  not  seeing  her  disturbance,  went  on  with  his 
narrative,  every  word  of  which  spread  the  eloquent 
countenance  of  Helen  with  admiration  and  joy. 

Since  her  heroic  heart  had  wrung  from  it  all  selfish 
wishes  v/ith  regard  to  Wallace,  she  now  allowed  her- 
self openly  to  rejoice  in  his  success,  and  to  look  up, 
imabashed,  when  the  resplendent  glories  of  his  charac- 
ter were  brought  before  her.  None,  but  Edwin,  made 
her  feel  her  exclusion  from  her  soul's  only  home,  by 
dwelling  on  his  gentle  virtues ;  by  portraying  the  ex- 
quisite tendernesses  of  his  nature,  which  seemed  to 
enfold  the  objects  of  his  love  in  his  heart  of  hearts. 
When  Helen  thought  on  these  discourses,  she  would 
sigh ;  but  it  was  a  sigh  of  resignation  ;  and  she  loved 
to  meditate  on  the  words  witli  a  serious  design,  which 
Edwin  had  spoken  in  jest ; — that  she  made  herself  a 
nun  for  Wallace  !  «  And  so  I  will  ;'*  said  she  to  her- 
self; "  and  that  resolution  stills  every  wild  emotion. 
All  is  innocence  in  Heaven,  Wallace  !  you  will  there 
read  my  soul,  and  love  me  as  a  sister/* 


60  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

In  such  a  frame  of  mind  did  she  listen  to  the  relation 
of  Edwin ;  did  her  animated  eye  welcome  the  enthu- 
siastic encomiums  of  Badenoch  and  Loch-awe.  Then 
sounded  the  trumpet;  and  the  herald's  voice  in  the 
streets  proclaimed  the  victory  of  the  Regent.  Lady 
Mar  rushed  to  the  window,  as  if  there  she  would  see 
himself.  Lady  Ruthven  followed ;  and  as  the  loud  ac- 
clamations of  the  people  echoed  through  the  air,  Helen, 
pressing  Wallace's  precious  cross  close  to  her  heart, 
hastily  left  the  room  to  enjoy  the  rapture  of  her  thoughts 
before  the  altar  of  Heaven. 

The  Countess,  in  less  than  an  hour,  paid  an  unusual 
visit  to  her  daughter-in-law's  apartment ;  and  on  Helen 
leaving  her  closet  to  know  her  ladyship's  commands, 
she  learnt  that  Lord  Mar  had  just  informed  his  wife 
that  the  Regent  was  expected  to  arrive  in  the  course  of 
a  few  days.  As  all  the  nobility  in  Stirling  would  be 
present  to  hail  his  re-entrance  into  that  town,  the 
Countess  said,  she  came  to  advise  her,  in  consideration 
of  what  had  passed  in  the  chapel  before  his  departure, 
not  to  submit  herself  to  the  observation  of  so  many 
eyes.  Lady  Helen  could  not  help  perceiving,  that  the 
constant  drift  of  her  step-mother  was,  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, to  prevent  her  seeing  Wallace  ;  but  being  of  too 
pure  a  nature  to  suspect  the  nature  of  her  motive,  she 
calmly  answered,  "that  she  would  obey  her."' 

This  was  sufficient  for  the  Countess ;  she  had  gained 
lier  point.  For  though  she  did  not  seriously  think, 
(what  she  had  affected  to  believe)  that  any  thing  more 
had  passed  between  Wallace  and  Helen  than  what  they 
had  both  openly  declared;  yet  she  could  not  but  discern 
the  harmony  of  their  minds ;  and  she  feared  that  fre- 
quent intercourse  might  draw  such  sympathy  to  some* 
thing  dearer.  She  had  understanding  to  perceive  his 
virtues  ;  but  they  found  no  answering  qualities  in  her 
breast.  The  matchless  beauty  of  his  person,  the  pene- 
trating tenderness  of  his  manner,  the  splendor  of  his 
fame,  the  magnitude  of  his  power,  all  united  to  set  her 
impure  and  ambitious  soul  in  a  blaze.  Every  opposing 
duty  seemed  only  a  vapour  through  which  she  could 
easily  leap  to  gain  the  goal  of  her  desires.  Hence"  art 
of  every  kind  appeared  to  her  to  be  no  more  than  a 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  61 

means  of  acquiring  the  object  most  valuable  to  her  in 
life.  Education  had  not  given  her  any  principle  by 
which  she  might  have  checked  the  headlong  impulse  of 
her  now  aroused  passions. — Brought  up  by  her  mo- 
ther, a  princess  of  Norway,  (who  had  ran  away  with 
the  Earl  of  Strathearn  from  her  father's  court,)  she 
gained  nothing  essentially  good  from  her.  That  young 
princess  endowed  her  husband  with  the  sovereignty  of 
the  Orkneys,  and  lived  with  him  there  in  all  the  pomp 
of  northern  magnificence.  But  her  person  and  rank 
were  all  that  was  valuable  in  the  union ;  she  was  weak 
and  vain,  and  unguarded  by  any  fixed  ideas  of  right  and 
wrong.  Her  daughter,  the  fair  Joanna,  inherited  her 
faults  with  her  graces ;  and  came  from  her  hands  just 
as  nature  had  formed  her,  with  no  acquired  ideas  but 
those  of  a  high  notion  of  her  own  beauty  and  hereditary 
consequence.  Though  distractedly  fond  of  admiration, 
the  Lady  Joanna  held  her  charms  in  too  great  estima- 
tion to  bestow  them  on  any  man  beneath  the  rank  of  a 
prince;  and  while  she  passed  her  time  in  a  crowd  of 
gallant  young  knights,  all  striving  who  could  make 
themselves  the  most  agreeable  to  this  gay  and  disdain- 
ful beauty,  her  mother  died.  The  young  and  lovely 
Countess  of  Mar,  then  only  two  years  married,  and 
the  happy  parent  of  the  sweet  Helen,  pitying  the  sor- 
row of  the  lately  dissipated  Joanna,  sent  over  to  Kirk- 
wall, to  beg  the  widowed  Earl  of  Strathearn  to  allow 
his  daughter  to  pass  a  few  months  with  her  at  Braemar, 
The  sprightly  graces  of  the  youthful  mourner  quickly 
broke  through  her  clouds  of  grief.  Lady  Mar  thought 
the  transitoriness  of  her  before  vehement  lamentations, 
excusable  in  a  girl  of  sixteen ;  and  she  loved'  her  for 
her  beauty  and  gayety  of  heart.  And,  alas,  for  the 
frailty  of  human  nature  I  the  Earl,  her  husband,  then 
hardly  turned  of  forty,  in  the  full  meridian  of  manhood 
and  of  feeling;  from  being  interested  in  the  sadness  of 
his  fair  charge,  now  became  too  sensible  to  the  en- 
chantments of  her  sportive  mirth.  His  Countess's  se- 
cond confinement  approached  ;  and  as  her  delicate 
frame  frequently  required  rest,  the  lively  Joanna  was 
left  alone  to  amuse  the  Earl.  She  sang,  she  danced, 
she  captivated  his  senses  in  every  possible  way.     He 

VOL.  II.  F 


62  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

forgot  his  wife,  his  honour,  all  the  world,  in  the  lovely 
syren; — and  hours  of  lonely  converse,  in  which  his  en- 
amoured  soul  poured  forth  a  language,  so  much  more 
ardent  than  any  she  had  ever  heard  before,  (for  which 
of  her  admirers  ever  had  sueh  opportunities  of  drinking 
in  the  poison  which  set  his  heart  on  fire  ?)  that  she  be- 
came bewildered,  entranced.  Instead  of  revolting  at 
the  idea  of  the  husband  of  her  friend  addressing  her 
with  the  voice  of  passion,  she  only  contemplated  her 
triumph  in  having  rivalled  the  charms  of  so  beautiful 
a  woman  as  Lady  Mar;  and  thus  listening  day  after  day 
to  the  breath  of  vice,  her  soul  caught  the  infection,  and 
she  fell.  From  that  moment  all  her  high-flown  hopes 
of  a  royal  union  fled.  The  infatuation  of  the  Earl  in- 
creased ;  and  while  the  intoxication  of  vanity  subdued 
her  to  his  illicit  passion,  his  injured  wife  brought  forth 
a  daughter,  and  happily  died.  Before  three  months 
expired,  the  criminal  Joanna  had  awoke  from  her  dream 
of  folly :  she  found  that  she  had  sacrificed  her  hopes  to 
the  silly  gratifications  of  rivalry;  she  had  greedily  lis- 
tened to  an  adulation  which  seemed  to  raise  her  to 
divinity,  when,  in  reality,  it  reduced  her  to  the  most  ab- 
ject situation  of  her  sex,  and  made  her  a  mark  for  con- 
tempt to  point  at,  should  ever  discovery  unveil  her  con- 
duct to  the  world.  J^t  this  crisis,  while  her  soul  was 
torn  with  scorn  of  herself,  and  indignation  against  the 
Earl  for  the  advantage  he  had  taken  of  her  youth  and 
innocence,  she  found  herself  in  a  state  which  threat- 
ened to  proclaim  her  disgrace  to  every  eye.  This 
humbled  her  at  once  ;  and  no  longer  meeting  the  fond 
solicitations  of  the  widowed  Mar  with  disdain  or  re- 
proaches, she  yielded  to  his  entreaties,  and  ere  the 
Countess  was  four  months  dead,  became  his  wife.  The 
child,  which  she  soon  after  brought  into  the  world,  died 
the  moment  it  was  born  ;  and  every  succeeding  babe 
which  she  carried,  met  with  the  same  fiite,  till  the  birth 
of  those  twins,  the  survivor  of  which  had  been  saved 
from  a  watery  grave  by  Wallace.  Ill  as  Lord  Mar  had 
behaved  in  this  transaction,  it  w:as  his  first  derelection 
from  virtue;  and  his  remorse  for  having  betrayed  inno- 
cence, and,  perhaps,  by  his  too-apparent  infidelity,  Ifas- 
tcned  the  death  of  the  most  trusting  of  wives,  so  wrung 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  63 

his  heart,  that  his  continued  repentance  made  such  an 
impression  on  his  young  Countess  as  to  excite  in  her 
mind  some  idea  of  moral  and  religious  distinctions. 
To  check  any  rumours  to  which  her  prompt  marriage 
and  the  early  birth  of  her  child  might  have  given  rise, 
she  persuaded  her  husband  to  take  her  over  to  France  ; 
where,  throwing  off  all  her  gayety,  and  assuming  a  high 
demeanour,  which  she  thought  more  becoming  her 
royal  descent,  she  resided  several  years.  Gratified  by 
the  admiration  which  such  gravity  in  one  so  young, 
called  forth,  she  changed  her  ambition  from  pre-emi- 
nence in  beauty,  to  that  of  being  deemed  the  most  per- 
fect model  of  conjugal  decorum,  and  of  every  majestic 
grace  which  belongs  to  princely  blood.  With  this 
character  she  returned  to  Scotland.  She  found  the 
suspicion  of  her  former  indiscretion  faded  from  ail 
minds;  and  passing  her  time  in  the  stately  hospitalities 
of  her  lord's  castles,  conducted  herself  with  a  matronly 
dignity,  that  made  him  the  envy  of  all  the  married 
chieftains  in  the  kingdom.  Soon  after  her  arrival  she 
took  the  Lady  Helen  from  her  grandfather  at  Thirles- 
tane,  where  both  children  had  been  left  on  the  depar- 
ture of  their  father  and  his  bride  for  France.  Though 
hardly  passed  the  period  of  absolute  childhood,  the 
Lord  Soulis  at  this  time  offered  the  young  heiress 
of  Mar  his  hand.  The  Countess  had  then  no  inter- 
est in  wishing  the  union,  therefore  she  permitted 
her  daughter-in-law  to  decide  as  she  pleased.  A 
second  time  he  presented  himself,  and  Lady  Mar, 
still  indifferent,  aliov/ed  Helen  a  second  time  to  refuse 
him — Years  flew  over  the  heads  of  the  once  guilty  pair  ; 
but  while  they  whitened  the  raven  locks  of  the  Earl, 
and  withered  his  manly  brow,  the  beauty  of  his  Count- 
ess blew  into  fuller  luxuriance.  Yet  it  w^as  her  mirror 
alone  that  told  her  she  was  fairer  than  ail  the  ladies 
around;  for  none  durst  invade  the  severe  decorum  of 
her  manners  with  so  light  a  whisper.  Such  was  her 
state  when  she  first  heard  of  the  rise  of  Sir  William 
Wallace:  and  when  she  thought  that  husband,  by  join- 
ing him,  might  not  only  lose  his  life,  but  risk  the  for- 
feiture of  his  family  honours, — for  her  own  sake,  and 
for  her  children,  she  determined,  if  it  were  necessary, 
to  make  the  outlawed  chief  a  sacrifice.     To  this  end 


64  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

she  became  willing  to  bribe  Soulis's  participation  in 
her  scheme,  by  the  hand  of  Helen.  She  knew  that  her 
dau.2^hter-in-law  abhorred  his  character;  but  love,  in- 
difference, or  hatred,  she  thought  of  little  consequence 
in  a  marriage  which  brought  sufficient  antidotes  in 
rank  and  wealth.  She  had  never  felt  what  real  love 
was  ;  and  her  personal  vanity  being  no  longer  agitated 
by  the  raptures  of  a  frantic  lover,  she  now  lived  tran- 
quilly with  Lord  Mar;  though  she  had  for  a  time  hated 
him,  after  his  having  betrayed  her;  and  at  best  had 
only  regarded  him  with  an  indifference,  a  little  moved 
ivy  her  evanescent  pleasure  in  his  idolatry.  What  then 
was  her  astonishment,  what  the  wild  distraction  of  her 
piCart,  when  she  first  beheld  Sir  William  Wallace;  and 
found  in  her  breast  for  him,  all  which,  in  the  moment  of 
the  most  unreflecting  intoxication,  she  had  ever  felt  for 
her  lord ;  with  the  addition  of  feelings  and  sentiments, 
the  existence  of  which  she  had  never  believed,  but  now 
knew  in  all  their  force  ? — Love,  for  the  first  time,  pe- 
netrated through  every  nerve  of  her  body,  and  pos- 
sessed her  whole  mind.  Taught  a  theory  of  virtue  by 
licr  husband,  she  was  startled  at  v/ishes  which  militated 
against  his  honour;  but  no  principles  being  grounded 
in  her  mind,  they  soon  disappeared  before  the  furious 
•  harge  of  her  passions,  and,  after  a  short  struggle,  she 
surrendered  herself  to  the  lawless  power  of  a  guilty  and 
ambitious  love.  Wishes,  hopes,  and  designs,  which, 
two  years  before,  she  would  have  shuddered  at,  as  not 
only  sinful,  but  derogatory  to  female  delicacy,  she  now 
embraced  with  ardour;  and  nought  seemed  dreadful 
to  her  but  disappointment.  The  prolonged  life  of 
Lord  Mar  cost  her  many  tears;  for  the  master  passions 
of  her  nature,  v/hich  she  had  laid  asleep  on  her  mar- 
riage with  the  Earl,  broke  out  with  redoubled  violence 
at  the  sight  of  Wallace.  His  was  the  most  perfect  of 
manly  forms ;  and  she  loved :  He  was  great ;  and  her 
ambition  blazed  into  an  unextinguishable  flame.  These 
two  strong  passions  meeting  in  a  breast  weakened  by 
the  crime  of  her  youth,  their  rule  was  absolute,  and 
neither  virtue,  honour,  nor  humanity,  could  stand  be- 
fore them.  Her  husband  was  abhorred,  her  son  for- 
gotten, and  nothing  but  Wallace  and  a  crown  could 
find  a  place  in  her  thoughts. 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  65 

Helen,  not  apprehending  any  one  of  the  occult  devi- 
ces which  were  working  in  her  step-mother's  heart 
when  she  came  to  exhort  her  against  being  present  at 
the  triumphal  reception  of  Wallace,  retired  once  moi-e 
to  her  closet,  with  this  sentiment ; — ^'  I,  who  know  the 
heroism  of  his  soul,  need  not  pageants,  nor  acclama- 
tions of  the  multitude,  to  tell  me  what  he  is. — He  is 
already  too  bright  for  my  dazzled  senses  to  support ; 
and  with  his  image  pressing  on  my  heart,  it  is  mercy  to 
let  me  shrink  from  his  too-glorious  presence !" 


CHAP.  VII. 

The  few  chieftains  who  had  remained  on  their  estates 
during  the  suspense  before  the  battle,  thinking  that  if 
the  issue  proved  unfavourable,  they  should  be  safest 
amongst  their  native  glens,  now  came  with  numerous 
trains  to  greet  the  return  of  their  victorious  Regent. 
The  ladies  brought  forth  their  most  splendid  apparels, 
and  the  houses  of  Stirling  were  hung  with  tapestry,  to 
hail  with  due  respect  the  benefactor  of  the  land. 

At  last  the  hour  arrived,  when  a  messenger,  whom 
Lord  Mar  had  sent  out  for  the  purpose,  returned  on 
full  speed  with  the  information  that  the  Regent  was 
passing  the  Carron.  At  these  tidings,  the  animated  old 
Earl  called  out  his  retinue,  mounted  his  coal-black 
steed,  and  ordered  a  sumptuous  charger  to  be  caprison- 
ed  with  housings  wrought  in  gold  by  the  hands  of  Lady 
Mar  and  her  ladies.  This  horse  was  intended  to  meet 
Wallace,  and  to  bring  him  into  the  city.  Edwin  led  it 
forward.  And  behind  the  Earls  Mar  and  Badenoch, 
came  all  the  chieftains  of  the  country  with  their  re- 
tainers, in  gallant  array.  Their  ladies  on  splendid  pal- 
freys, followed  the  superb  car  of  the  Countess  of  Mar, 
and  preceding  the  multitudes  of  Stirling,  left  the  town 
a  desert. — Not  a  living  being  seemed  now  within  its 
walls,  excepting  the  S0iii'feron  prisoners,  who  were  as- 
sembled on  the  top  of  the  citadel  to  view  the  return  of 
their  conqueror. 

Helen  remained  .alone  in  Snawdoun,  believing  that 
F  2 


06  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

she  was  the  only  soul  left  in  that  vast  palace.  But 
while  she  sat  in  her  rooin,  musing  on  the  extraordinary 
fate  of  Wallace  ;  a  few  months  ago  a  despised  outlaw, 
at  this  moment  the  idol  of  the  nation  ! — And  then 
turning  to  herself;  she,  the  wooed  of  many  a  gallant 
heart;  and  now  devoted  to  one,  who,  like  the  sun,  she 
must  ever  contemplate  with  admiration,  while  he  should 
pass  on  ahove  her  sphere,  unconscious  of  the  devotion 
which  filled  her  soul. 

The  distant  murmur  of  the  populace  thronging  out 
of  the  streets  towards  the  carse,  gradually  subsided, 
and  at  last  she  was  left  in  profound  silence.  "  He  must 
be  near,"  thought  she  ;  "  he  whose  smile  is  more  preci- 
ous to  me  than  the  adulation  of  all  the  world  besides, 
now  smiles  upon  every  one  !  All  look  upon  him,  all 
hear  him  but  I — and  I — Ah,  Wallace,  did  Marion  love 
thee  dearer?"  As  her  devoted  heart  demanded  this 
question,  her  tender  and  delicate  soul  shrunk  within 
herself,  and  deeply  blushing,  she  hid  her  face  in  her 
hands.  A  pause  of  a  few  minutes  ; — and  a  sound  as  if 
the  skies  were  rent,  tore  the  air ;  a  noise  like  the  dis- 
tant roar  of  the  sea  succeeded  ;  and  soon  after,  the 
shouts  of  an  approaching  multitude  shook  the  palace  to 
its  foundations.  Helen  started  on  her  feet ;  the  tumult 
of  voices  augmented  ;  and  the  sound  of  coming  squad- 
rons thundered  over  the  ground.  At  this  instant  every 
bell  in  the  city  began  its  peals  ; — and  the  door  of  He- 
len's room  suddenly  opened — Lady  Ruthven  hurried  in. 
^'  Helen,"  cried  she,  "  I  would  not  disturb  you  before ; 
but  if  you  were  to  be  absent,  I  would  not  make  one  in 
Lady  Mar's  train  ;  and  I  come  to  enjoy  with  you  the 
veturn  of  our  beloved  Regent  I 

Helen  did  not  speak,  but  her  eloquent  countenance 
amply  told  her  aunt  what  were  the  emotions  of  her 
heart;  and  Lady  Ruthven  taking  her  by  the  hand,  at- 
tempted to  draw  her  towards  a  balustraded  window 
which  opened  to  a  view  of  the  high-street ;  but  Helen 
sinking  into  a  chair,  begged  to  be  excused.-—"  I  hear 
enough,"  said  she,  "  my  desf^aunt ;  sights  like  these 
overcome  me;  let  me  remain  where  I  am." 

Lady  Ruthven  was  going  to  remonstrate,  when  the 
*oud  huzzas  of  the  people  and  soldiers,  accompanied  by 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  67 

acclamations  of  "  Long  live  -victorious  Wallace^  our 
Prince  and  King!'*  struck  Helen,  half  fainting,  back 
into  her  seat,  and  Lady  Ruthven  darting  towards  the 
window,  cried  aloud,  "  He  comes,  Helen, he  comes  ! — 
His  bonnet  off  his  noble  brow — Oh  !  how  princely  does 
he  look ! — And  now  he  bows — Ah,  thpy  shower  flowers 
upon  him  from  the  houses  on  each  side  the  street ; — ■ 
and  how  sweetly  he  smiles  and  bows  to  the  ladies  as 
they  lean  from  their  windows  !  Come,  Helen,  come,  if 
you  would  see  the  perfection  of  majesty  and  modesty 
united  in  onel'* 

Helen  did  not  move,  but  Lady  Ruthven,  stretching 
out  her  arm,  plucked  her  of  her  chair,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment had  drawn  her  within  view  of  Wallace.  Helen 
saw  him  attended  as  a  conqueror  and  a  king;  but  with 
the  eyes  of  a  benefactor  and  a  brother  he  looked  on  all 
around.  The  very  memory  of  war  seemed  to  vanish 
before  his  presence,  for  all  there  was  love  and  gentle- 
ness. Helen  drew  a  quick  sigh,  and  closing  her  eyes, 
dropped  against  the  casement.  She  now  heard  the  buz 
of  many  voices,  the  rolling  peal  of  acclamations,  but 
she  distinguished  nothing;  her  senses  were  in  tumults  ; 
and  had  not  Lady  Ruthven,  by  an  accidental  glance,  dis- 
covered her  disorder,  she  would  soon  have  fallen  mo- 
tionless to  the  floor.  The  good  matron  was  not  so  for- 
getful of  the  feelings  of  a  virtuous  youthful  heart,  not 
to  have  discovered  something  of  what  was  passing  in 
that  of  her  niece.  From  the  moment  in  which  she  sus- 
pected that  Wallace  had  made  a  serious  impression 
there,  she  dropped  all  trifling  with  his  name.  And 
now  that  she  saw  the  distressing  eff'ects  of  that  impres- 
sion, with  revulsed  feelings  she  took  the  fainting  Helen 
in  her  arms,  and  laying  her  on  a  couch,  by  the  aid  of 
volatiles,  soon  restored  her  to  recollection.  Seeing 
her  quite  recovered,  she  made  no  observation  on  this 
emotion  ;  and  Helen  leaned  her  head,  and  wept  upon 
the  bosom  of  her  aunt.  Lady  Ruthven's  tears  silently 
mingled  with  hers  ;  but  she  said  within  herself,  "  Wal- 
lace cannot  be  always  insensible  to  so  much  sweet- 
ness 1" 

As  the  acclaiming  populace  passed  the  palace  in  their 
vvay  to  the  citadel  whither  they  were  escorting  their  Re- 


68  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

gent,  Helen  remained  quiet  in  her  leaning  position ; 
but  when  the  noise  died  away  into  hoarse  murmurs, 
she  raised  her  head,  and  glancing  on  the  tear-bathed 
face  of  her  affectionate  aunt,  said,  with  a  forced  smile, 
"  My  more  than  mother,  fear  me  not !  I  am  grateful  to 
Sir  William  Wallace  ;  I  venerate  him  as  the  Southrons 
do  their  St.  George  ;  but  I  need  not  your  tender  pity/' 
As  she  spoke  her  beautiful  lip  quivered,  but  her  voice 
was  steady.  "  My  sweetest  Helen,"  replied  Lady  Ruth- 
ven,  "  how  can  I  pity  her  for  whom  I  hope  every  thing!" 
^'  Hope  nothing  for  me,"  returned  Helen,  understand- 
ing by  her  looks  what  her  tongue  had  left  unsaid  ;  "  but 

to   see  me  a  vestal  here,  and  a  saint  in  Heaven.'* 

"  What  can  my  Helen  mean  ?"  replied  Lady  Ruthven, 
"  Who  would  talk  of  being  a  vestal,  with  such  a  heart 
in  view  as  that  of  the  Regent  of  Scotland  ?  and  that 
it  will  be  yours,  does  not  his  eloquent  gratitude  de- 
clare ?"  "  No  ;  my  aunt,"  answerd  Helen,  casting  down 
her  eyes;  "  gratitude  is  eloquent  where  love  would  be 
silent.  I  am  not  so  sacrilegious  as  to  wish  that  Sir 
William  Wallace  should  transfer  that  heart  to  me 
which  the  blood  of  Marion  for  ever  purchased.  No  ; 
should  these  people  compel  him  to  be  their  king,  I  will 
retire  to  Dumfermline  monastery,  where  the  ashes  of 
his  parents  sleep,  and  for  ever  devote  myself  to  God 
and  to  prayers  for  my  country." 

The  holy  composure  which  spread  over  the  counte- 
nance and  figure  of  Helen  as  she  uttered  this,  seemed 
to  extend  itself  to  the  before  eager  mind  of  Lady  Ruth- 
ven ;  she  pressed  her  tenderly  in  her  arms,  and  kissing 
her;  "  Gentlest  of  human  beings!"  cried  she,  "  what- 
ever be  thy  lot,  it  must  be  happy  !"  "  Whatever  it  be," 
answered  Helen,  "  1  know  that  there  is  an  Almighty 
reason  for  it :  I  shall  understand  it  in  the  world  to  come, 
and  I  cheerfully  acquiesce  in  this."-—"  Oh !  that  the 
ears  of  Wallace  could  hear  thee !"  cried  Lady  Ruthven. 
"'  They  will,  sometime,  my  gracious  aunt,"  answered 
she  with  an  angelic  smile. — "  When  ?  where?  dearest  V* 
asked  Lady  Ruthven,  hoping  that  she  began  to  have 
fairer  anticipations  for  herself.  Helen  answered  not, 
but  pointing  to  the  sky,  rose  from  her  seat  with  an  air 
as  if  she  were  really  going  to  ascend  to  those  regions 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  -69 

which  seemed  best  fitted  to  receive  her  pure  spirit. 
Lady  Ruthven  gazed  on  her  in  speechless  admiration  ; 
and  without  a  word,  or  an  impeding  motion,  saw  Helen 
softly  kiss  her  hand  to  her,  and  with  another  seraphic 
smile,  glide  gently  from  her  into  her  closet,  and  close 
the  door. 

Far  different  were  the  emotions  which  agitated  the 
bosoms  of  every  person  present  at  the  entry  of  Sir 
William  Wallace.  All  but  himself  regarded  it  as  the 
triumph  of  the  King  of  Scotland;  and  while  some  of 
the  nobles  exulted  in  their  future  monarch,  the  major 
part  felt  the  daemon  of  envy  so  possess  their  souls, 
that  they  who,  before  his  arrival,  were  ready  to  worship 
his  name,  now  looked  on  the  empire  with  which  he 
seemed  to  ride,  borne  on  the  hearts  of  the  people,  with 
a  rancorous  jealousy,  which,  from  that  moment,  vowed 
his  humiliation  or  the  fall  of  Scotland.  The  very 
tongues,  which  in  the  general  acclaim  called  loudest 
"  Lo7ig  live  our  Mngy"  belonged  to  those  who,  in  the 
secret  recesses  of  their  souls,  swore  to  work  his  ruin^ 
and  to  make  these  full-blown  honours  the  means  of  his 
destruction.  He  in  vain  had  tried  to  check  what  his 
moderate  desires  deemed  the  extravagant  gratitude  of 
the  people:  but  finding  his  efforts  only  excited  still 
louder  demonstrations  of  their  love  ;  and  knowing  him- 
self immoveable  in  his  resolution  to  remain  a  subject  of 
the  crown,  he  moved  on  composedly;  and  proceeded  to 
the  citadel,  where  a  royal  banquet  was  prepared  by  the 
orders  of  the  Countess,  to  greet  his  arrival. 

Those  ladies  who  had  not  retired  from  the  cavalcade 
to  greet  their  Regent  a  second  time  from  their  windows, 
preceded  him  in  Lady  Mar's  train  to  the  grand  hall, 
where  she  had  caused  a  feast  to  be  spread  that  might 
have  graced  the  harem  of  an  eastern  satrap.  Two  seats 
were  placed  under  a  canopy  of  cloth  of  gold  at  the  head 
of  the  board.  The  Countes  stood  there  in  all  the 
splendor  of  her  ideal  rank,  and  would  have  seated  Wal- 
lace in  the  royal  chair  on  her  right  hand,  but  he  drew 
back  ; — "  I  am  only  a  guest  hi  this  citadel,"  returned  he, 
"  and  it  would  ill  become  me  to  take  place  of  the  mas- 
ter of  the  banquet."  Ashe  spoke,  he  looked  on  Lord 
Mar,  Avho  understanding   the    language  of   his   eyes. 


70  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

ivhich  never  said  the  thing  he  would  not,  without  a  word 
took  the  kingly  seat,  and  disappointed  the  Countess, 
who,  by  this  refusal,  still  found  herself  regarded  as  no 
more  than  the  wife  of  the  governor  of  Stirling,  when, 
she  had  hoped  that  a  compliance  with  her  cunning  ar- 
rangement, would  have  hinted  to  all  that  she  Avas  to  be 
the  future  queen  of  their  acknowledged  sovereign. 
They  who  knew  Wallace,  saw  his  immoveable  resolu- 
tion in  this  apparently  slight  action :  But  others,  who 
read  his  design  in  their  own  ambition,  translated  it  dif- 
ferently, and  thought  it  only  an  artful  rejection  of  the 
appendages  of  royality,  to  excite  the  impatience  of 
the  people  to  crown  him  in  reality. 

As  the  ladies  took  their  seats  at  the  resplendent 
board,  Edwin,  who  stood  by  the  chair  of  his  beloved 
lord,  whispered,  "  Our  Helen  is  not  here  :  That  sweet 
lily  of  the  valley,  shrunk  from  such  garish  sun- 
shine V* 

Lady  Mar  over  heard  the  name  of  Helen,  but  she 
could  not  distinguish  Wallace's  reply;  and  fearing 
that  some  second  assignation,  of  more  happy  termina- 
tion than  that  of  the  chapel,  might  be  designed,  she 
determined,  that  if  Edwin  v/ere  to  be  the  bearer  of  a 
secret  correspondence  between  the  man  she  loved, 
and  the  daughter  she  hated,  to  deprive  them  speedily 
of  so  ready  an  assistant. 


CHAP.  VHL 

In  the  collected  council  the  following  day,  the  Earl 
of  March  made  his  treacherous  request :  and  \Vallace 
trusting  his  vehement  oaths  of  fidelity,  (because  he 
thought  that  the  versatile  Earl  had  now  discovered  his 
true  interest,)  granted  him,  without  suspicion,  charge 
of  the  Lothians.  The  Lords  Athol  and  Buchan,  were 
not  backward  in  offering  their  services  to  the  Regent; 
and  the  rest  of  the  discontented  nobles  following  the 
base  example,  with  equal  deceit  bade  him  command 
their  lives  and  fortunes.  W^hile  asseverations  of  loyal- 
ty filled  the  walls  of  the  council-hall;  and  the  lauding 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  7i 

rejoicings  of  the  people  still  sounded  from  without, 
all  spoke  of  security  and  confidence  to  Wallace ;  and 
never,  perhaps,  did  he  think  himself  so  absolute  in 
the  hearts  of  all  Scotland,  as  at  the  very  moment  when 
^hree-fourths  of  its  nobility  were  plotting  his  destruc- 
tion. 

Lord  Loch-awe,  who,  from  the  extent  of  his  domains 
on  the  western  coast,  and  from  his  tried  valour,  might 
well  have  assumed  the  title  of  his  great  ancestor  Fin- 
gal,  and  been  called  king  of  woody  Morven,  rose  from 
his  seat;  and  having,  (previous  to  the  entrance  of  the 
Regent,)  opened  his  intentions  to  the  assembled  lords  ; 
part  of  whom  had  assented  with  real  satisfaction,  and 
the  remainder  readily  acquiesced  in  Avhat  they  had  laid 
so  sure  a  plan  to  circumvent ;  he  stood  forth,  and  in  a. 
long  and  persuasive  speech,  once  more  declared  to 
Wallace  the  wishes  of  the  nation,  that  he  would  strike 
the  decisive  blow  on  the  pretensions  of  Edward,  by 
himself  accepting  the  crown.  The  Bishop  of  Dun- 
keld,  with  all  the  eloquence  of  learning,  and  the  most 
animated  devotion  to  what  he  believed  the  interest  of 
Scotland,  seconded  the  petition.  Mar  and  Bothwell 
enforced  it.  The  disaffected  lords  thought  proper  to 
throw  in  their  conjurations  also;  and  every  voice,  but 
that  of  Badenoch,  poured  forth  fervent  entreaties  that 
he  would  grant  the  prayers  of  the  supplicating  nation. 

W^allace  rose,  and  every  tongue  was  mute.  "  My 
gratitude  to  Scotland,  increases  with  my  life :  but  my 
answer  must  still  be  the  same — I  cannot  be  its  king." 

At  these  words  the  venerable  Loch-awe  threw  him- 
self on  his  knees  before  him ;  "  In  my  person,"  cried 
he,  "  see  Scotland  at  your  feet  I  still  bleeding  with  the 
effects  of  former  struggles  for  empire,  she  would 
throw  off  all  claims  but  those  of  virtue,  and  receive 
as  her  anointed  sovereign,  her  father  and  deliverer ! 
She  has  no  more  arguments  to  deliver :  These  are  her 
prayers ;  and  thus  1  offer  them." 

"  Kneel  not  to  me,  brave  Loch-awe  I"  cried  Wal- 
lace, "  nor  believe  that  the  might  of  these  victories 
lies  so  thoroughly  in  this  arm,  that  I  dare  outrage  its 
maker?  Were  I  to  comply  with  your  wishes,  I  should 
disobey  him  who  has  hitherto  made  me  his  ha|)py  agent, 


,72  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

and  how  could  I  then  guard  my  kmgdom  from  his  ven- 
geance ?  Your  rightful  king  yet  lives;  he  is  an  alien 
from  his  country,  but  Heaven  may  return  him  to  your 
prayers.  Meanwhile,  as  his  representative,  as  your 
soldier  and  protector,  I  shall  be  blest  in  wearing  out 
my  life.  My  ancestors  were  ever  faithful  to  the  blood 
of  Alexander,  and  in  the  same  fidelity  I  will  die.** 

The  firmness  with  which  he  spoke,  and  the  deter- 
mined expression  of  his  noble  countenance,  convinced 
Loch-awe  that  he  was  not  to  be  shaken;  and  rising 
from  his  knee,  he  bowed  in  silence.  March  whispered 
to  Buchan,  "  Behold  the  hypocrite !  But  we  will  un- 
mask him.  He  thinks  to  blind  us  to  his  towering  am- 
bition, by  this  affected  moderation.  He  will  not  be 
called  a  king,  because,  with  our  crown,  certain  limita- 
tions are  laid  on  the  prerogative ;  but  he  will  be  our 
Regent,  that  he  may  be  our  dictator,  and  every  day 
demand  gratitude  for  voluntary  services,  which,  per- 
formed by  a  king,  could  only  be  considered  as  his 
duty." 

These  sentiments,  when  the  council  broke  up,  were 
actively  disseminated  amongst  the  disaffected  throng ; 
and  each  gloomy  recess  in  the  woods  murmured  with 
their  seditious  meetings ;  while  every  lip  in  the  coun- 
try at  large,  breathed  the  name  of  Wallace  as  they 
would  have  done  a  god's ;  and  the  land  that  he  had 
blessed,  bloomed  on  every  hill  and  valley  like  a  gar- 
den. 

Stirling  now  exhibited  a  constant  carnival;  peace 
was  in  every  heart,  and  joy  its  companion.  As  Wal- 
lace had-commanded  in  the  field,  he  decided  in  the 
judgment-hall ;  and  while  all  his  behests  were  obeyed 
with  a  promptitude,  which  kept  the  machine  of  state 
constantly  moving  in  the  most  beautiful  order,  his  bit- 
terest enemies  could  not  but  secretly  acknowledge  the 
perfection  they  were  determined  to  destroy. 

His  munificent  hand  stretched  itself  far  and  near, 
that  all  who  had  shared  the  sufferings  of  Scotland, 
might  drink  largely  of  her  prosperity.  The  good  Ab- 
bot of  Scone  was  invited  from  his  hermitage  ;  and 
when  he  heard  from  the  embassadors  sent  to  him,  that 
the  brave  young  warrior  whom  he  had  entertained,  was 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  73 

the  resistless  Wallace,  he  no  longer  thought  of  the 
distant  and  supine  Bruce,  but  centered  every  wish  for 
his  country  in  the  authority  of  her  deliverer.  A  few 
days  brought  him  to  Stirling  and  wishing  to  remain 
near  the  most  constant  residence  of  his  noble  friend, 
he  requested  that  instead  of  being  restored  to  Scone, 
he  might  be  installed  in  the  vacant  monastery  of  Cam- 
buskenneth.  Wallace  gladly  acquiesced ;  and  the  ve- 
nerable Abbot  being  told  that  his  late  charge,  the  Lady 
Helen,  was  in  the  palace,  went  to  visit  her  next  day; 
and  as  he  communicated  his  exultation  and  ^happiness, 
she  rejoiced  in  the  benedictions  which  his  grateful 
spirit  invoked  on  the  head  of  her  almost  worshipped 
sovereign.  Her  heart  gave  him  this  title,  which  she 
believed  the  not  to  be  repressed  affection  of  the  people, 
would  at  last  force  him  to  assume. 

The  wives  and  families  of  his  brave  Lanarkers,  were 
brought  from  Loch-Doine,  and  again  planted  in  their 
native  vallies ;  and  nought  in  the  kingdom  appeared 
different  from  its  most  prosperous  days,  but  the  wi- 
dowed heart  of  the  dispenser  of  all  this  good.  And 
yet,  so  fully  did  he  engage  himself  in  the  creation  of 
these  benefits,  that  no  time  seemed  left  to  him  for  re- 
grets ;  but  they  haunted  him  like  persecuting  spirits, 
invisible  to  all  but  himself. 

During  the  performance  of  these  things,  the  Coun- 
tess of  Mar,  though  apparently  lost  to'  all  other  pur- 
suits than  the  peaceable  enjoyment  of  her  reflected 
dignities,  was  absorbed  in  the  one  great  object  of  her 
passion ;  and  eager  to  be  rid  of  so  dangerous  a  spy 
and  adversary  as  she  deemed  Edwin  to  be,  she  was 
labouring  day  and  night  to  effect  by  clandestine  schemes 
his  banishment,  when  an  unforeseen  circumstance 
carried  him  far  away.  Lord  Ruthven,  being  on  an  em- 
bassy to  her  father  the  Earl  of  Strathearn  and  Prince 
of  the  Orkneys,  had  fallen  ill;  and  as  his  disorder 
was  attended  with  extreme  danger,  he  had  sent  for  his 
wife  ;  and  Edwin,  impelled  by  love  for  his  father,  and 
anxiety  to  sooth  the  terrified  suspense  of  his  mother, 
readily  left  the  side  of  his  friend  to  accompany  her  to 
the  isles.  Lady  Mar  had  now  no  scrutinizing  eye  to  fear  ; 
her  nephew  Murray  was  stiil  on  duty  in  Clydesdale ; 

VOL.   II.  G 


74  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

the  Earl,  her  husband,  trusted  her  too  implicitly,  ever 
to  turn  on  her  a  suspicious  look;  and  Helen,  she  con- 
trived, should  be  as  little  in  her  presence  as  possible 

Busy  as  she  was,  the  enemies  of  the  Regent  were 
not  less  active  in  the  prosecution  of  their  plans.  The 
Earl  of  March  had  arrived  at  Dunbar  ;  and  having  dis- 
patched his  treasonable  proposals  to  Edward,  had  re 
ceived  letters  from  that  monarch  by  sea,  accepting  his 
services,  and  promising  every  reward  that  could  satisfy 
his  ambition,  and  the  cupidity  of  those  whom  he  could 
draw  over  to  his  cause.  The  wary  king  then  told  the 
Earlj  that  if  he  v/ould  send  his  wife  and  family  to  Lon- 
don as  hostages  for  his  faith,  he  was  ready  to  bring  a 
mighty  army  to  Dunbar,  and  by  th^t  gate,  once  more 
enter  Scotland.  These  negotiations  backwards  and 
forward,  from  London  to  Dunbar,  and  from  Dunbai'  to 
the  treacherous  Lords  at  Stirling,  occupied  much 
time  ;  and  the  more,  as  great  precaution  was  necessa- 
ry, to  escape  the  vigilant  eyes  of  Wallace,  which  seem- 
ed to  be  present  in  every  part  of  the  kingdom  at  once; 
for,  so  careful  was  he  in  overlooking,  by  his  well  cho- 
sen officers  civil  and  military,  every  transaction,  that 
the  slightest  dereliction  from  the  straight  order  of  things 
was  immediately  seen  and  examined  into.  Many  of 
these  trusty  ma{2:istrates  having  been  placed  in  the  Lo- 
thians  before  March  took  the  government,  he  could 
not  now  remove  them  without  exciting  suspicion ; 
and  therefore,  as  they  remained,  great  circumspection 
was  used  to  elude  their  watchfulness. 

From  the  time  that  Edward  had  again  entered  into 
terms  with  the  Scottish  Chieftains,  Lord  March  sent 
regular  tidings  to  Lord  Soulis  of  the  progress  of  their 
negotiation.  He  knew  that  that  nobleman  would 
gia.dly  welcome  the  recall  of  the  king  of  England  ;  for 
ever  shice  the  revolution  in  favour  of  Scotland,  he  had 
remained  obstinately  shut  up  within  his  castle  of  Fler- 
mitage.  (Chagrin  at  having  lost  Helen,  was  not  the 
least  of  his  ijiurtihcations  ;  and  the  wounds  he  had  re- 
ceived froin  the  invisible  hand  which  had  released 
her,  having  been  given  with  all  the  might  of  the  va- 
liant arm  .'wlii.ch  directed  the  blow,  were  not  even  now 
h^rJcd;    his    passions  kept   them   still  inflamed;  and 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  75 

their  smart  made  his  vengeance  burn  the  fiercer 
ai^ainst  Wallace,  who,  he  now  learnt,  was  the  myste- 
nous  agent  of  her  rescue. 

While  treason  secretly  menaced  to  spring  its  mine 
beneath  the  feet  of  the  Regent,  he,  unsuspicious  that 
r  any  could  be  discontented  where  all  were  rendered  free 
^  and  prosperous,  thought  of  no  enemy  to  the  tranquil  ful- 
filment of  his  duties,  but  the  minor  persecutions  of 
Lady  Mar.  No  day  escaped  without  bringing  him  let- 
ters, either  to  invite  him  to  Snawdoun;  or  to  lead  her  to 
the  citadel,  where  he  resided.  In  every  one  of  these 
epistles,  she  declared  that  it  was  no  longer  the  wild- 
ness  of  passion  which  impelled  her  to  seek  his  society, 
hut  the  moderated  regard  of  a  friend.  x\nd  though 
perfectly  aware  of  all  that  was  behind  these  assevera- 
tions, (for  she  had  deceived  him  once  into  a  belief  of 
this  plea,  and  had  made  him  feel  its  falseness)  he  found 
himself  forced  at  times,  out  of  the  common  civility 
due  to  her  sex,  to  comply  with  her  invitations.  Indeed 
her  conduct  never  gave  him  reason  to  hold  her  in  any 
higher  respect,  for  whenever  they  happened  to  be  left 
alone,  her  behaviour  exhibited  any  thing  but  the  chaste 
affection  to  which  she  made  pretensions.  The  fre- 
quency of  these  scenes,  at  last  made  him  never  go  to 
Snawdoun  unaccompanied,  (for  she  rarely  allowed  him 
to  have  even  a  glimpse  of  Helen)  and  by  this  precaution 
Jie  avoided  much  of  her  solicitations.  But,  strange  to 
say,  even  at  the  time  that  this  conduct,  by  driving  hev 
to  despair,  almost  excited  her  to  some  desperate  act ; 
her  wayward  heart  threw  the  blame  of  his  coldness 
upon  her  trammels  with  Lord  Mar  ;  and  flattering  her- 
self that,  were  he  dead  all  would  happen  as  she  wished, 
she  panted  for  that  hour  with  an  impatience  which 
often  tempted  her  to  precipitate  the  event. 

Things  were  in  this  situation  when  Wallace  one 
night  was  hastily  summoned  from  his  pillow  by  a  page 
of  Lord  Mar's,  requesting  him  immediately  to  repair  to 
his  chamber.  Concluding  that  something  alarminp; 
must  have  happened,  to  occasion  so  extraordinary  a 
summons,  he  threw  on  his  Garabeson,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  entered  the  apartments  of  the  governor.  Mar 
met  him  with  a  countenance  that  was  indeed  the  herald 


76  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

of  a  dreadful  matter.  "  What  has  happened  ?"  in- 
quired Wallace.  "  Treason,"  answered  Mar,  "  and 
from  what  point  I  cannot  guess  :  but  my  daughter  has 
braved  a  midnight  and  lonely  walk  from  Snawdoun,  to 
bring  the  proofs."  As  he  spoke  he  led  the  chief  into 
the  room  where  Helen  sat.  Her  long  hair  disordered 
by  the  winds  of  the  night  mingled  with  the  grey  folds 
of  the  plaid  which  enveloped  her.  He  hastened  for- 
ward— she  no  longer  flitted  before  him,  scared  away 
from  his  approach  by  the  frowning  glances  of  her  step- 
mother. He  had  once  attempted  to  express  his  grate- 
ful sentiments  of  what  she  had  suffered  in  her  lovely 
person  for  his  sake,  but  the  Countess  had  interrupted 
him,  and  Helen  disappeared.  Now  he  beheld  her  in  a 
presence  where  he  could  declare  all  his  gratitude  with- 
out subjecting  its  gentle  object  to  one  harsh  word  in 
consequence  ;  and  almost  forgetting  his  errand  to  the 
governor,  and  the  tidings  he  had  just  heard,  he  re- 
membered only  the  manner  in  which  she  had  shielded 
his  life  with  her  tender  arms ;  and  as  she  rose  as  he 
drew  near,  he  bent  his  knee  respectfully  before  her. 
Blushing  and  silent,  she  extended  her  hand  to  him  to 
•ise.  He  pressed  it  warmly,  "Sweet  excellence!" 
said  he,  "  I  am  happy  in  this  opportunity,  however 
gained,  again  to  pour  out  my  acknowledgments  to  you; 
and  though  I  have  been  denied  that  pleasure  until  now, 
yet  the  memory  of  your  generous  interest  in  the  friend 
of  your  father,  is  one  of  the  most  cherished  sentiments 
of  my  heart."  "  It  is  my  own  happiness,  as  well  as  my 
duty.  Sir  William  Wallace,"  repHed  she,  "  to  regard 
vou  and  my  country  as  one :  and  that  I  hope  will  ex- 
cuse the,  perhaps,  unsexual  action  of  tliis  night  ?"  ^  As 
she  spoke,  he  again  gently  pressed  her  hand,  and  rising, 
looked  at  Lord  Mar  for  further  explanation. 

The  Earl  held  a  roll  of  vellum  towards  him.  "  This 
writing,"  said  l^,  "was  found  to-night  by  my  daughter. 
She  was  walking  with  my  wife  and  some  ladies  to 
enjoy  the  moon-light  on  the  sequestered  shores  of  the 
Forth,  behind  the  palace  :  and  having  strayed  at  some 
distance  from  her  friends,  she  had  an  opportunity  of  ex- 
amining uninterruptedly  this  packet,  which  she  saw 
lying  in  the  path  before  her,  as  if  it  had  just  been  dropt. 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS,  77 

Thinking  to  discover  its  owner  that  she  might  restore 
it,  she  opened  the  cover,  and  part  of  the  contents  soon 
told  her  that  she  must  keep  the  other  .vithin  her  own 
bosom  till  she  could  reveal  them  to  me.  Not  even  to 
my  wife  did  she  intrust  the  dangerous  secret;  nor 
would  she  run  any  risk  of  accidents  by  sending  it  by  a 
messenger.  As  soon  as  the  family  v/eve  gone  to  rest, 
she  wrapped  herself  in  her  plaid,  and  finding  a  passage 
through  one  of  the  low  embrasures  of  Snawdoun,  with 
a  fleet  step  made  her  way  to  the  citadel  and  to  me 
She  gave  me  this  letter;  read  it,  my  brave  friend,  and 
judge  if  we  do  not  owe  much  to  heaven  for  so  critica] 
a  discovery." 

Wallace  took  the  scroll,  and  read  as  follows  : 

"  Our  trusty  fellows  will  bring  you  this,  and  deliver 
copies  of  the  same  to  the  rest.  As  we  shall  be  with 
you  in  four-and -twenty  hours  after  it  arrives,  you  need 
not  return  us  an  answer.  The  array  of  our  liege  lord  is 
now  in  the  Lothians,  and  passes  through  those  cheated 
counties  under  the  appellation  of  succours  for  the  Re- 
gent, from  the  Orkney-Isles.  Keep  all  safe,  and  nei- 
ther himself  nor  any  of  his  adherents  shall  have  a  head 
on  their  shoulders  by  this  day  week.*' 

Neither  superscription,  name,  nor  date,  was  to  this 
letter,  but  Wallace  immediately  knew  the  hand  writing 
to  be  that  of  the  faithless  Lord  March.  "  Then  we 
m'^st  have  traitors  even  within  these  walls  1"  exclaim- 
ed Mar,  "  none  but  the  most  powerful  chiefs,  would 
the  proud  Cospatrick  admit  into  his  conspiracies!  and 
what  are  we  to  do?  for  by  to-morrow's  evening,  the  ar= 
my  this  traitor  has  let  into  the  heart  of  the  country,  will 
be  at  our  gates  I" 

"  No,"  cried  Wallace,  "  thanks  to  God  and  this 
guardian  angel,"  fervently  clasping  her  hand  as  he 
spoke,  "  we  are  not  to  be  intimidated  by  treachery ! 
Let  us  but  be  faithful  ourselves,  my  veteran  friend,  and 
all  will  go  well.  It  matters  not  who  the  other  treators 
are  ;  they  will  soon  discover  themselves,  and  shall  find 
us  prepared  to  counteract  their  machinations.  Blow 
your  trumpet,  my  lord,  to  summon  the  heads  of  yo\ar 
council." 


rs  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Helen  at  this  command  arose  j  byt  Wallace  replac- 
ing her  in  her  chair,  "  stay  Lady  Helen,"  said  he,  "  let, 
the  sight  of  siith  virgin  delicacy,  braving  the  terrors  of 
the  night  to  warn  betrayed  Scotland,  nerve  every  heart 
with  redoubled  courage  to  breast  this  insidious  foe  1" 
Helen  did  indeed  feel  her  soul  awake  to  all  its  ancient 
patriotic  enthusiasm  ;  and  thus  with  a  countenance 
pale,  but  resplendent  with  the  light  of  her  thoughts, 
she  sat,  the  angel  of  heroic  inspiration.  Wallace  of- 
ten turned  to  look  on  her,  while  her  eyes,  unconscious 
of  the  adoring  admiration  which  spoke  in  their  beams, 
followed  his  godlike  figure  as  it  moved  through  the 
room,  with  a  step  that  declared  the  undisturbed 
determination  of  his  soul. 

The  lords  Bothwell,  Loch-awe>  and  Badenoch,  were 
the  first  that  obeyed  the  call.  They  started  at  sight  of 
Helen  ;  but  Wallace,  in  a  few  words,  related  the  cause- 
of  her  appearance  ;  and  the  portentous  letter  was  laid 
before  them.  All  were  acquainted  with  the  hand-wri- 
ring  of  Lord  March  ;  and  all  agreed  in  attributing  to 
Us  real  motive,  his  late  solicitude  to  obtain  the  com- 
mand of  the  Lothians  ;  "  What  !"  cried  Bothwell,  "  but 
;o  open  his  castle-gates  to  the  enemy  !" 

"  And  to  repel  him  before  he  reaches  ours,  my  brave 
chiefs  !"  replied  Wallace,  "  I  have  summoned  you. 
Edward  will  not  make  this  attempt  without  tremen- 
dous powers.  He  knows  what  he  risques  ;  his  men, 
his  life,  and  his  honor.  W^e  must  therefore  expect  a 
3tand  adequate  to  his  danger.  Lose  not  then  a  mo- 
ment ;  even  to-night,  this  instant,  go  out,  and  bring  in 
your  followers  ;  I  will  call  up  mine  from  the  banks  of 
the  Clyde,  and  be  ready  to  meet  him  ere  he  crosses 
the  Carron." 

While  he  gave  these  orders,  other  nobles  thronged 
in;  and  Helen,  as  the  story  of  her  conduct  was  repeat- 
ed, being  severally  thanked  by  them  all,  became  so  a- 
gitated,  that,  stretching  out  her  hand  to  Wallace,  who 
•was  nearest  to  her,  she  softly  whispered,  "  take  me 
hence."  He  read  in  her  blushing  face  the  oppression 
which  her  modesty  sustained  in  such  a  scene  ;  and  with 
faltering  steps  she  leaned  upon  his  arm,  and  he  con- 
ducted her  through  an  anti-roon>  into  an  interior  cham- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  79 

her  of  the  governor's  apartments.  Here  Helen,  over- 
come by  her  former  fears,  and  the  emotions  of  the  last 
hour,  sunk  into  a  chair  and  burst  into  tears.  Wallace 
stood  over  her^  as  he  looked  on  her  he  thought"  If 
ought  on  earth  ever  resembled  the  beloved  of  my  soul, 
it  is  Helen  Mar  !'*  And  all  the  tenderness  which  me- 
mory gave  to  his  ever-adored  wife,  and  all  the  grateful 
complacency  with  which  he  regarded  Helen,  beamed 
at  once  from  his  eyes.  She  raised  her  head — she  felt 
that  look — it  thrilled  to  her  soul.  For  a  moment  every 
former  thought  seemed  lost  in  the  one  perception, 
that  he  then  gazed  on  her  as  he  had  never  looked  on 
any  woman  since  his  Marion.  Was  she  then  beloved  ? 
The  impression  was  evanescent :  "  No,  no  1"  said 
she  to  herself;  and  waving  her  hand  gently  to  him, 
with  her  head  bent  down  ;  "  Leave  me,  Sir  William 
Wallace — Forgive  me, — but  I  am  exhausted;  my 
frame  is  weaker  than  my  mind."  She  spoke  this  by 
snatches  ;  and  Wallace  respectfully  touching  the  hand 
she  extended,  pressed  it  to  his  breast.  "  I  obey  you^ 
dear  Lady  Helen  ;  and  when  next  we  meet,  it  will  be, 
I  hope,  to  dispel  every  fear  in  this  gentle  bosom,  and 
to  say  that  heaven  has  again  blessed  the  arms  of  Scot- 
land 1'*  With  a  beating  heart  she  bowed  her  head 
■without  looking  up ;  and  Wallace  left  the  room. 


CHAP.  IX. 

IJeFORE  the  sun  rose,  every  brave  Scot  within  a  few 
hours  march  of  Stirling,  were  assembled  on  the  carse  ; 
and  Lord  Andrew  Murray  with  his  veteran  Clydesdale 
men,  was  already  resting  on  his  arms  in  view  of  the  city 
walls.  The  messengers  of  Wallace  hastened  with  the 
speed  of  the  winds,  east  and  west ;  and  the  noon  of  the 
day  sav/  him  at  the  head  of  30,000  men,  determined  to 
fight  or  to  die  for  their  country. 

The  surrounding  landscape  shone  in  the  brightness 
of  midsummer ;  for  it  was  the  eve  of  St.  Magdalen,  and 
sky  and  earth,  both  bore  witness  to  the  luxuriant  month 
of  July.     The  heavens  were  clear,  the  waters  of  the 


80  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Forth  danced  in  the  sun-beams;  and  the  flower-ena- 
melled green  of  the  extended  plain,  breathing  fragrance, 
stretched  its  beautiful  borders  to  the  deepening  woods. 
All  nature  smiled ;  and  all  seemed  in  harmony  and 
peace  but  the  breast  of  man.  He  who  was  made  lord 
of  this  paradise,  moved  forward  to  disturb  its  repose,  to 
disfigure  its  loveliness  !  As  the  thronging  legions  pou- 
red upon  the  plain,  the  sheep  which  had  been  feeding 
there,  fled,  scared  to  the  hills ;  the  plover  and  heath- 
fowl  which  nestled  in  the  brakes,  rose  afl'righted  from 
their  infant  broods,  and  flew  in  screaming  multitudes 
far  over  the  receding  vallies.  The  peace  of  Scotland 
was  again  broken,  and  its  flocks  and  herds  were  to 
share  its  misery  1 

When  the  conspiring  lords  appeared  upon  the  carse, 
and  Mar  communicated  to  them  the  lately  discovered 
treason,  they  so  well  affected  surprise  at  the  contents  of 
the  scroll,  that  it  is  probable  Wallace  might  not  have 
suspected  their  connexion  with  it,  had  not  Lord  Athol 
declared  it  as  his  belief,  that  it  was  altogether  a  forgery 
of  some  wanton  person,  and  that  to  gather  an  army  on 
such  authority  was  ridiculous.  While  he  spoke,  Wal- 
lace regarded  him  with  a  look  which,  Athol  meeting, 
pierced  him  to  the  centre  ;  and  the  blood  rushing  into 
his  guilty  heart,  for  once  in  his  life  he  trembled  before 
the  eye  of  a  man.  "  Whoever  be  the  degenerate  Scot 
to  whom  this  writing  is  addressed/*  said  Wallace,  "  his 
baseness  shall  not  betray  us  farther.''  The  troops  of 
Scotland  shall  be  in  the  Lothians  to-morrow ;  and  woe 
be  to  the  man  who  that  day  deserts  his  country  !" — 
"  Amen  !"  cried  Lord  Mar. — "  Amen  I"  sounded  from 
every  lip :  for,  when  the  conscience  embraces  treason 
against  its  earthly  rulers,  allegiance  to  its  heavenly  king 
is  abandoned  with  ease  ; — and  the  words  and  oaths  of 
the  traitor  are  equally  unstable. 

Badenoch's  eye  followed  that  of  Wallace,  and  his  sus- 
picions fixed  where  the  Regent's  fell.  For  the  honour 
of  his  blood,  he  forbore  to  accuse  the  Earl,  but  for  the 
same  reason  he  determined  to  watch  his  proceedings. 
However,  the  hypocrisy  of  Athol  baffled  even  the  pene- 
tration of  his  brother ;  and  on  his  retiring  from  the 
grouftd  to  call  forth  his  njen  for  the  expedition,  in  an 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  8i 

affected  chafe  he  complained  to  Badenoch  of  the  stig- 
ma cast  upon  their  house  by  the  Regent's  implied 
charge.  "  But,'  said  he,  "  he  shall  this  day  see  my 
fidelity  to  Scotland  written  in  blood  on  the  sands  of  the 
Forth  1  His  towering  pride  heeds  not  where  Lt  strikes; 
and  this  comes  of  raising  men  of  low  estate  to  rule 
over  princes  !" — "  His  birih  is  noble,  if  not  royal ;"  re- 
plied Badenoch,  *'  and,  before  this,  the  posterity  of 
lungs  have  not  disdained  to  recover  their  liberty  by  the 
sword  of  a  brave  subject." — ''True>''  answered  Athol; 
"  but  is  it  customary  for  princes  to  allow  that  subject 
to  sit  on  their  throne  ?  It  is  nonsense  to  talk  of  Wallace 
having  refused  a  coronation.  He  laughs  at  the  name  ; 
but  see  you  not  that  he  openly  affects  supreme  power, 
and  that  he  rules  the  nobles  of  the  land  like  a  despot  ? 
His  word,  his  nod,  is  su(licient.  Look  at  the  brave 
Mack  Cailanmore,  (^'>  the  lord  of  the  west  of  Scotland 
from  sea  to  sea ;  he  stands  unbonneted  before  this 
mighty  Wallace,  with  a  more  abject  homage  than  ever 
he  paid  to  the  house  of  Alexander !  And  then  again, 
hear  how  the  upstai"!  commands  the  sons  of  our  most 
venerable  nobility  :  Go  here,  go  there  I — as  if  he  were 
absolute,  and  there  was  no  voice  in  Scotland  but  his 
own  1 — Can  you  behold  this,  Lord  Badenoch,  and  not 
find  the  royal  blood  of  your  descent  boil  in  your  veins  ? 
Does  not  every  look  of  your  wife,  ^"^  the  sister  of  a 
king  ;  and  your  own  rights  knocking  at  your  heart,  re- 
proach you  ?  He  is  greater  by  your  strength.  Humble 
him,  my  brother  ;  be  faithful  to  Scotland,  but  humble 
its  proud  dictator  !" 

Lord  Badenoch  replied  to  this  rough  exhortation, 
with  the  tranquillity  belonging  to  his  nature.  "  I  see 
not  the  least  foundations  for  any  of  your  charges  against 
Sir  William  Wallace.  He  has  delivered  Scotland,  and 
the  people  are  grateful.  The  nation  with  one  voice 
made  him  their  Regent;  and  he  fulfil*  the  duties  of  his 
office : — but  with  a  moderation  and  modesty.  Lord 
Athol,  which,  I  must  affirm,  I  never  saw  equalled.  I 
must  dissent  from  you  in  all  you  have  said  ; — And  I 
confess  that  I  did  fear  that  the  blandishing  arguments 
of  the  faithless  Cospatrick  had  persuaded  you  to  em- 
brace his  pernicious  treason.     You  deny  it : — that  i^ 


32  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

well.  Prove  your  innocence  this  day  in  the  field, 
against  Scotlaiad's  enemies,  and  John  of  Badenoch  will 
then  see  no  impending  cloud  to  darken  the  honour  of 
the  name  of  Cummin  I" 

The  brothers  immediately  separated  ;  and  Athol  cal- 
ling his  cousin  Buchan,  laid  a  new  plot  to  counteract 
the  vigilance  of  the  Regent :  one  means  v/as,  to  baffle 
him  in  his  measures,  by  stimulating  the  less  treasona- 
ble, but  yet  discontented  chieftans,to  thwart  him  in  eve- 
ry point.  At  the  head  of  these  was  John  Stewart,  Earl 
of  Bute.  He  had  been  in  Norway  during  the  Jast  year, 
and  returned  to  Scotland  just  on  the  triumphal  entry  of 
Wallace  into  Stirling.  Athol,  aware  of  the  consequence 
Stewart's  name  would  attach  to  a  cause,  gained  his  ear 
before  he  was  introduced  to  the  Regent,  and  so  poison- 
ed his  mind  against  Wallace,  that  all  that  was  v/ell  in 
him,  he  deemed  ill ;  and  ever  spoke  of  his  bravery  with 
coldness,  and  of  his  patriotism  with  disgust :  He  be- 
lieved him  a  hypocrite  ;  and  as  such,  despised  and  ab- 
horred him. 

While  Athol  marshalled  his  rebellious  ranks,  Wal- 
lace led  forth  his  loyal  barons  to  take  their  stations  at 
the  heads  of  their  differ^t  clans.  Sir  Alexander  Scrym- 
geour,  with  the  proudest  expectations  for  Scotland,  un- 
furled his  golden  standard  to  the  sun.  The  lords  Loch- 
awe  and  Bothwell,  with  others,  rode  on  the  right  of  the 
Regent.  Lord  Andrew  Murray,  with  the  brave  Sir 
John  Graham,  and  a  bevy  of  young  knights,  kept  the 
ground  on  his  left.  Wallace  looked  around :  Edwin 
was  far  away,  (he  who  stood  firmly  by  him  in  every  tu- 
mult ;  and  he  felt  but  half  appointed  for  the  battle  when 
he  wanted  his  youthful  sword-bearer.  That  faithful 
friend  did  not  even  know  of  the  threatened  hostility  ; 
for,  to  have  intimated  to  Lord  Ruthven  a  danger  to 
Scotland  which  he  could  not  assist  to  repel,  would  only 
have  inflamed  his  disorder  by  anxiety,  and  perhaps  have 
hurried  him  to  dissolution. 

As  the  Regent  moved  forward,  with  these  private 
affections  chequering  his  public  cares,  the  heralds  blew 
the  trumpets  of  his  approach,  and  a  hundred  embattled 
clans  appeared  in  the  middle  of  the  plain,  ready  to  re- 
ceive their  valiant  leaders.     Each  chieftain  advanced  to 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  8G 

the  head  of  his  line,  and  stood  to  hear  the   charge  of 
Wallace. 

"  Brave  Scots  !**  cried  he,  "  I  hope  this  day  will  bfc 
the  last  of  Southron  invasion  !  Treachery  has  admitted 
the  enemy  whom  God  had  driven  from  our  borders. — 
Be  steady  in  your  fidelity  to  Scotland,  and  he  who  has 
hitherto  protected  the  just  cause,  will  nerve  your  arms 
to  lay  treason  and  its  base  coadjutor  in  the  dust  !*' 

"  Lead  us  to  victory  !"  cried  the  eager  soldiers, 
throwing  up  their  cups  at  the  ever-inspiring  voice  of 
their  leader.  Wallace  waved  his  sword  in  token  to 
the  chieftains  to  fall  back  towards  their  legions ;  and 
while  some  appeared  to  linger,  Athol,  armed  cap-a-pee, 
and  spurring  his  roan  steed  into  the  centre  of  the  area 
before  the  Regent,  demanded,  in  a  haughty  tone, 
"  Which  of  the  Scots  then  in  the  field,  were  to  lead  the 
vanguard  V 

"  The  Regent  of  Scotland,"  replied  Wallace,  for 
once  asserting  the  majesty  of  his  station  ;  "  and  you, 
Lord  Athol,  with  the  Lord  Buchan,  are  to  defend  your 
country  under  the  command  of  the  brave  head  of  your 
house,  the  princely  Badenoch."  "  I  stir  not  from  this 
spot,"  returned  Athol,  fiercely  striking  his  lance  into 
its  rest,  "  till  I  see  the  honour  of  my  country  establish- 
ed in  the  eyes  of  the  world  by  a  leader  worthy  of  her 
rank  in  the  nations  being  placed  in  her  vanguard." 

"  What  he  says,"  cried  Buchan,  "  I  second."  "  And 
in  the  same  spirit,  chieftain  of  EUerslie,"  exclaimed 
Lord  Bute,  "  do  I  offer  to  Scotland,  myself  and  my  peo- 
ple. Another  must  lead  the  van,  or  I  retire  from  her 
ranks." 

"  Speak  on  !"  cried  Wallace,  more  surprised  than 
confounded  by  this  extraordinary  attack. 

"  What  these  illustrious  chiefs  have  uttered,  is  the 
voice  of  us  all !"  was  the  general  exclamation  from  a 
band  of  warriors  who  now  thronged  around  the  incen- 
diary nobles. 

"  Your  reign  is  over,  proud  chieftain  !"  rejoined 
Athol,  "the  Scottish  ranks  are  no  longer  to  be  cajoled 
by  your  afiected  moderation.  We  see  the  tyrant  in 
your  insidious  smile,  we  feel  him  in  the  despotism  of 
vour  decrees.     To  be  thus  ridden  by  a  man  of  vulgar 


84  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

blood ;  to  present  him  as  the  head  of  our  nation  to  the 
kmg  of  England,  is  beneath  the  dignity  of  our  country, 
is  an  insult  to  her  nobles  ;  and  therefore  in  the  power 
of  her  consequence  I  speak,  and  again  demand  of  you 
to  yield  the  vanguard  to  one  more  worthy  of  the  station. 
Before  God  and  St.  Magdalen,  I  swear,"  added  he, 
holding  up  his  sword  to  the  heavens,  "  that  I  will  not 
stir  an  inch  this  day  towards  the  enemy,  unless  a  Cum- 
min or  a  Stewart  lead  our  army  1" 

"  And  is  this  your  resolution.  Lord  Bute  r"  said  Wal- 
lace, looking  on  Stewart.  "  It  is,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  a 
foe  like  Edward  ought  to  be  met  as  becomes  a  great  and 
independent  kingdom!  We  go  in  the  array  of  an  unan- 
imous nation,  to  repel  him  ;  not  as  a  band  of  insurgents, 
headed  by  a  general,  however  brave,  yet  drawn  from 
the  common  ranks  of  the  people.  I  therefore  demand 
to  follow  a  more  illustrious  leader  to  the  field.*' 

"  I  am  of  the  same  opinion,"  cried  Buchan,  "  and  I 
think  that  the  eagles  have  long  enough  followed  their 
owl  in  peacock's  feathers  ;  and,  being  tired  of  the  game. 
I,  like  the  rest,  soar  upward  again  1" 

"  Give  place  to  a  more  honourable  leader,"  repeated 
Athol,  supposing  that  he  had  intimidated  Wallace  :  but 
Wallace,  raising  the  visor  of  his  helmet,  which  he  had 
closed  on  his  last  commands  to  his  generals,  looked  O' 
Athol  with  all  the  majesty  of  his  truly  royal  soul  in  his 
eyes  ;  "  Earl,"  said  he,  "  the  voice  of  the  three  estates 
of  Scotland  declared  me  their  Regent  and  protector. 
God  ratified  their  election  by  the  victory  v/ith  which  he 
crowned  me :  and  if  in  ought  I  have  betrayed  my  trust, 
let  them  speak.  Four  pitched  battles  have  I  fought  and 
gained  for  this  country.  Twice  I  beat  the  representa- 
tives of  King  Edward  on  the  plains  of  Scotland ;  and 
last  of  all,  I  made  him  fly  before  me  over  the  fields  of 
Northumberland  !  What  then  has  befallen  me,  that  I 
am  to  be  afraid  to  meet  this  man  ?  Has  the  oil  of  the 
Lord  with  which  the  blessed  hands  of  the  Saint  of  Dun- 
keld  anointed  my  brows,  lost  its  virtue,  that  I  should 
shrink  before  any  king  in  Christendom  ?  I  neither  trem- 
ble at  the  name  of  Edward,  nor  will  I  so  disgrace  my 
own  (which,  though  not  royal,  never  man  who  bore  it 
ever  degraded  by  swearing  fealty  to  a  foreign  prince) 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  S5 

Uii  to  abandon  at  such  a  crisis  the  power  with  which  Scot* 
land  has  invested  me.  Whoever  leaves  the  cause  of 
their  country,  let  them  go,  and  so  manifest  themselves 
of  noble  blood ;  I  remain,  and  I  lead  the  vanguard  I— 
Soldiers,  to  your  duty  !" 

As  he  spoke  with  a  voice  of  unanswerable  command^ 
several  chieftains  fell  back  into  their  ranks ;  and  Wal- 
lace, riding  past  the  frowning  Lord  Bute,  (who  hardly 
knew  what  to  think,  so  was  he  startled  by  the  appeal  of 
the  accused  Regent,  and  with  the  noble  frankness  with 
which  he  maintained  its  rights)  turned  to  him,  and  said, 
"  Do  you,  my  lord,  follow  these  violent  men  ?  or  am  I 
to  consider  a  chief  who,  notwithstanding  his  hostility  to 
me,  was  yet  generous  in  his  ire,  still  so  candid  as  to  be 
faithful  to  Scotland  in  spite  of  his  prejudice  against 
her  leader  ?     Will  you  fight  her  battles  ?"  ^ 

"  I  shall  never  desert  her  cause,"  replied  Stewart, 
^^  'tis  truth  I  seek  :  therefore,  be  it  to  you,  Wallace,  this 
day,  according  to  your  conscience  1"  Wallace  bowed 
his  head,  and  presented  him  the  truncheon  round  which 
his  orders  were  wrapped.  On  opening  it,  he  found  that 
he  was  appointed  to  the  command  of  the  third  division  ; 
Badenoch  and  Bothwell  had  the  first  and  second,  while 
Wallace  himself  now  led  on  the  vanguard. 

Scouts  at  that  instant  came  up,  and  informed  the  Re- 
T^ent  that  the  English  army  were  near  the  boundary  of 
Linlithgow,  and  would  be  on  the  Carron  in  the  course 
ofa  few  hours.  On  this  intelligence  Wallace  put  his 
troops  to  their  speed ;  and  before  the  sun  had  declined 
far  towards  its  western  descent,  he  was  within  view  of 
Falkirk,  He  had  not  communicated  to  the  rest  of  his 
chieftains  the  subject  of  his  conference  with  the  tumul- 
tuous lords  on  the  carse  of  Stirling  :  They  were  out  of 
hearing  of  what  was  said;  and  Wallace,  hoping  that  the 
dispute  was  now  ended,  thought  it  best  not  to  disturb 
his  friends  on  this  momentous  day  witli  the  knowledge 
of  so  refractory  a  beginning.  But  just  at  the  instant 
x\dien  he  had  crossed  the  Carron,  and  the  Southron 
banners  appeared  in  sight,  Lord  Athol,  at  the  head  of 
his  rebellious  colleagues,  rode  up  to  him.  Stewart 
^ept  his  station  with  his  division ;  and  Badenoch, 
-^hough  ignorant  of  his  brother's  design,  yet  aah^uned 

vol..  n.  H 


66  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

of  such  tlisorder,  in  vain  called  after  him  to  keep  his 
line.  The  obstinate  chief,  regardless  of  all  <:heck, 
galloped  on,  and  extending  his  bold  accomplices  across 
the  path  of  the  Regent,  demanded  of  him  on  the  pe- 
nalty of  his  life,  that  moment  to  relinquish  his  pre- 
tensions to  the  vanguard. 

"  I  am  not  come  here,"  replied  Wallace,  indignantly, 
^'  to  betray  my  country !  I  know  you.  Lord  Athol ; 
and  your  conduct  and  mine  will  this  day  prove  who  is 
most  worthy  the  confidence  of  Scotland."  "  This  day," 
cried  Athol,  "  shall  see  you  lay  down  the  power  you 
have  usurped."  "  It  shall  see  me  maintain  it  to  your 
confusion,"  replied  Wallace,  "  and  were  you  not  sur- 
rounded by  Scots  of  too  tried  a  worth  to  suspect  their 
being  influenced  by  your  rebellious  example,  I  would 
this  moment  make  you  feel  the  weight  of  my  justice. 
But  the  foe  is  in  sight:  do  your  duty  now.  Lord  Athol, 
and  for  the  sake  of  the  house  to  which  you  belong,  even 
this  intemperate  conduct  shall  be  forgotten."  At  this 
instant  Sir  John  Graham,  galloping  forward,  exclaimed, 
"  The  Southrons  are  bearing  down  upon  us  1"  and 
a\thol,  turning  proudly  round  on  Wallace,  with  a  sar- 
castic smile,  "  My  actions,"  cried  he,  '•  shall  indeed 
decide  the  day  !"  and  setting  his  spurs  furiously  into 
his  horse,  he  re-joined  Lord  Badenoch's  legion. 

Edward  did  indeed  advance  in  most  terrible  battle- 
array.  Above  a  hundred  thousand  men  swelled  his 
numerous  ranks ;  and  with  him  were  united  all  from 
the  Lothians  and  Tiviotdale,  whom  the  influence  of  the 
faithless  March  and  the  vindictive  Soulis,  could  bring 
into  the  field.  With  this  augmented  host,  and  a  de- 
termination to  conquer  or  to  die,  the  Southrons  marched 
rapidly  forward. 

Wallace  had  drawn  himself  up  on  the  ascent  of  the 
hill  of  Falkirk  to  meet  him  ;  and  having  planted  his 
archers  on  a  coveting  eminence,  flanked  by  the  legions 
of  Badenoch,  Lord  Athol,  v/ho  knew  the  integrity  c£ 
his  brother,  and  who  ciU-ed  not  in  so  great  a  cause  (for 
so  his  ambition  termed  it)  how  he  removed  an  adver- 
sary from  Edvv'ard,  and  a  censor  from  himself,  had 
given  orders  to  his  emissaries ;  and  on  the  moment 
when  the  trumpet  of  Wallace  sounded  tlie  charge,  and 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  8? 

the  arrows  from  the  hill  darkened  the  air,  the  virtuous 
Badenoch,  by  a  secret  hand,  was  stabbed  through  the 
back  to  the  heart.  Athol,  who  had  placed  himself  near 
for  the  purpose,  immediately  threw  himself  upon  the 
man  who  had  committed  the  deed,  and  wounding  him 
in  the  same  vital  part,  exclaimed,  holding  up  his  dag- 
ger, "Behold  the  weapon  that  has  slain  the  assassin 
hired  by  Sir  William  Wallace  1"— Thus  it  is  that  his 
ambition  would  rob  Scotland  of  her  native  princes. 
Let  us  fly  from  his  steel,  to  the  shield  of  a  king  and  a 
hero." 

The  poison  took. — The  men  had  seen  their  leader 
fall ;  they  doubted  not  the  words  of  his  brother ;  and 
with  a  shout,  exclaiming,  "  Whither  you  lead  we  fol- 
low !"  they  at  once  turned  towards  him.  "  Seize  the 
traitor's  artillery  1"  At  this  command  they  mounted 
^thehiil;  and  the  archers,  little  expecting  an  assault 
from  their  countrymen,  being  unguarded,  were  either 
instantly  cut  down  on  the  spot,  or  the  few  that  re- 
mained, hurried  away  prisoners  by  Athol  and  Buchan  ; 
who,  now  at  the  head  of  the  whole  division  of  the 
Cummins,  galloped  towards  the  thickest  of  the  enemy, 
and  with  loud  cries  of"  Long  live  King  Edward  !"  threw 
themselves  at  once  into  the  bosom  of  the  Southrons. 
The  squadrons  which  followed  Stewart,  n,ot  knowing 
but  they  might  be  hurried  into  similar  desertion,  hesi- 
tated in  the  charge  he  commanded  them  to  make;  and 
Avhile  thus  undecisive,  as  some  obeyed  in  broken  ranks, 
and  others  lingered,  the  enemy  perceiving  his  advan- 
tage, advanced  briskly  up,  surrounded  the  division  of 
Bute,  and  on  the  first  onset  slew  him.  His  ^"^  Bran- 
danes  immediately  fell  into  the  most  disastrous  confu- 
sion, and  sunk  under  the  shock  of  the  Southrons  as  if 
touched  by  a  spell.  The  legions  of  Bothwell  were 
fiercely  engaged  with  those  of  the  Earl  of  Lincoln, 
amid  the  swamps  of  a  deep  morass  which  lay  in  that 
part  of  the  field;  and  being  involved  by  a  reciprocal 
impetuosity,  equal  peril  seemed  to  ingulf  them-  both.. 
The  firm  battalion  of  the  vanguard  alone  remained  un- 
broken, and  stood  before  the  pressing  and  now  victo- 
rious thousands  of  Edward  without  receding  a  step.  The 
archers  being  lost  by  the  treachery  of  the  Cummins,  all 
hope  lay  on  the  strength  of  the  spear  and  sword;  and 


88  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Wallace,  standing  as  immoveable  as  the  rock  of  Stirling, 
rank  after  rank  of  his  dauntless  infantry  were  mowed 
down  by  the  Southron  arrows ;  but  as  fast  as  they  fell, 
their  comrades  closed  over  them,  and  still  presented  the 
^lame  impenetrable  front  of  steady  valour.  The  king 
of  England,  indignant  at  this  pause  in  his  conquering- 
onset,  accompanied  by  his  natural  brother,  the  valiant 
Frere  de  Eriangy,  and  a  whole  squadron  of  resolute 
knights,  charged  full  against  the  Scottish  pikemen. 
^Vailace,  descrying  thd  jewelled  crest  of  Edward 
amidst  the  cloud  of  battle,  rushed  forward,  and  hand  to 
hand  engaged  the  king.  Edv/ard  knew  his  adversary, 
TiOt  so  much  by  his  snow-white  plume,  as  by  the  prow- 
ass  of  his  arm.  Twice  did  the  heavy  claymore  of  Wal- 
lace strike  fire  from  the  steely  helmet  of  the  monarch  ; 
but  at  the  third  stroke,  the  glittering  diadem  fell  in 
^hivers  to  the  ground,  and  the  royal  blood  of  Edward 
followed  the  blow.  The  monarch  reeled,  and  another 
stroke  would  have  settled  the  freedom  of  Scotland  for 
ever,  had  not  the  strong  arm  of  Frere  de  Briangy  passed 
between  Wallace  and  the  swooning  king.  The  combat 
ihickened:  blow  followed  blow;  blood  gushed  at  each 
iall  of  the  sword ;  and  the  yawning  mouths  of  the  hacked 
armour  shewed  a  grisly  wound  in  every  aperture.  A 
hundred  weapons  seemed  directed  against  the  breast  of 
the  Regent  of  Scotland,  when,  raising  his  sword  with  a 
determined  stroke,  it  cleft  the  visor  and  brain  of  De 
briangy,  and  he  fell  lifeless  to  the  ground.  The  cry  of 
dismay  that  issued  from  the  Southron  troops  at  this 
sight,  again  nerved  the  vengeful  Edward;  and  order- 
ing the  signal  to  be  given  for  his  reserve  under  Bruce, 
to  advance  by  a  circuitous  path  round  the  hill,  he  re- 
viewed the  attack ;  and  assaulting  Wallace  with  all  the 
':ury  of  his  heart  in  his  eyes  and  arms,  tore  the  earth 
with  the  trampling  of  disappointed  vengeance,  when  he 
found  that  the  invincible  phalanx  still  stood  firm.  "  I 
will  reach  him  yet  I"  cried  he,  and  turning  to  De  Va- 
lence, he  commanded  that  the  new  artillery  should  be 
brought  into  action.  A  general  blast  of  all  the  trumpets 
in  the  Southron  army  blew,  and  immediately  the  war- 
wolfs  sent  forth  showers  of  red-hot  stones  into  the 
midst  of  the  Scottish  battalions ,  and,  at  the  same  mo- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  89 

ment,  the  reserve  charging  round  the  hill,  attacked 
them  in  flank,  and  accomplished  what  the  fiery  torrent 
had  begun.  The  field  was  heaped  with  the  dead  ;  the 
brooks  which  flowed  down  the  heights,  ran  with  blood ; 
but  no  confusion  was  there ;  no,  not  even  in  the  mind 
of  Wallace,  though  he  was  struck  with  amazement  and 
horror,  when  he  beheld  the  royal  lion  of  Scotland,  the 
banner  of  Bruce,  lead  onv/ard  the  exterminating  division. 
Scot  now  contended  with  Scot,  brother  with  brother. 
Those  valiant  spirits  who  had  left  their  country  twenty 
years  before,  to  accompany  their  chief  to  the  Holy - 
Land,  now  re-entered  Scotland  to  wound  her  in  her 
vital  part;  to  wrest  from  her  her  liberties;  to  make 
her  mourn  in  ashes,  that  she  had  been  the  mother  of 
such  matricides.  A  horrid  mingling  of  tartans  with 
tartans,  in  the  direful  grasp  of  reciprocal  death ;  a  tre- 
mendous hissing  of  the  flaming  artillery,  which  fell 
amongst  the  Scottish  ranks  like  blasting  lightning,  for  a 
moment  seemed  to  make  the  reason  of  the  patriot 
Regent  stagger.  Arrows  winged  with  fire  flashed 
through  the  air,  and  sticking  in  the  men  and  beasts, 
drove  them  against  each  other  in  maddening  pain. 
Twice  was  the  horse  of  Wallace  shot  under  him  ;  and 
on  every  side  were  his  closest  friends  wounded  and 
dispersed.  But  his  terrific  horror  at  the  scene  passed 
away  almost  in  the  moment  of  its  perception ;  and 
though  the  Southron  and  the  Bruce  pressed  on  him  in 
overwhelming  numbers,  his  few  remaining  ranks 
obeyed  his  call,  and  with  a  presence  of  mind  and  mi- 
litary skill  that  was  exhaustless,  he  maintained  the 
fight  till  darkness  parted  the  combatants.  When  Ed- 
ward gave  command  for  his  troops  to  cease  till  morn- 
ing, Wallace,  slowly,  and  with  the  residue  of  his  faith- 
ful band,  recrossed  the  Carron,  intending  that  they 
should  there  repose  themselves,  till  the  approaching 
dawn  should  renew  the  conflict. 

Lonely  was  the  sound  of  his  bugle,  as  sitting  on  a 
fragment  of  the  druidical  ruins  of  Dunipacis,  he  blew 
its  melancholy  blast  to  summon  his  chieftains  around 
him. — Its  penetrating  voice  pierced  the  hills;  but  no 
answering  notes  came  upon  his  ear :  the  leaders  of 
his  divisions  were  slain. — A  cold  convietion  of  the  re- 
H  3 


90  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS, 

ality  seized  upon  his  heart.  But  they  mii^ht  have  ftcc^ 
far  distant ! — He  blushed  as  the  thought  crossed  him  ; 
and  hopeless  ■  again,  dropped  the  horn  which  he  had 
raised  to  blow  a  second  summons.  At  this  instant  he 
saw  a  shadow  darken  the  moon-light  ruins,  and  Scrym- 
geour,  who  had  gladly  heard  his  commander's  bugle 
hastened  forward  with  a  few  chieftains  of  lesser  note. 

"  What  has  been  the  fate  of  this  dismal  day  ?"  asked 
Wallace,  looking  onward  as  if  he  expected  others  still 
to  come  up:  "  Where  are  my  friends? — Where  Gra- 
ham, Badenoch,  and  Bothweli  ? — Where  all,  brave 
Scrymgeour  that  I  do  not  now  see  ?'*  He  rose  from 
his  seat  at  sight  of  another  advancing  group.-— It  ap- 
proached near,  and  laid  a  dead  body  at  his  feet.  "  Thus," 
cried  one  of  the  supporters,  in  stifled  sounds,  "  has  my 
father  proved  his  love  for  Scotland  !" — It  was  Murray 
who  spoke ;  it  was  the  Earl  of  Bothweli  that  lay  a  breath- 
less corpse  before  him ! 

"  Grievous  has  been  the  havoc  of  Scot  on  Scot  T' 
cried  the  intrepid  Graham,  who  had  valiantly  assisted 
Murray  in  the,  contest  for  bis  father's  body ;  "  Your 
steadiness,  Wallace,  would  have  retrieved  the  day,  but 
tor  the  parricide  of  his  country  ;  that  Bruce  for  whom 
you  refused  to  be  our  king,  has  thus  destroyed  the  flow- 
.^.r  of  its  sons.  Their  blood  be  on  his  head.  Oh,  power 
of  justice !"  cried  he,  extending  his  martial  arms  to- 
wards heave>3;  "  and  let  his  days  be  troubled,  and  his 
death  covered  with  dishonour  1" 

"  My  brave  friend  !'*  replied  Wallace,  "  his  deeds 
vill  avenge  themselves  ;  he  needs  not  further  maledic- 
:loD.  Let  us  rather  turn  to  bless  the  remains  of  him 
"ix/ho  has  just  gone  before  us,  in  glory,  to  his  heavenly 
j-est ! — Ah  !  better  is  it  thus  to  be  laid  in  the  bed  of 
■lonour,  than,  by  surviving,  to  witness  the  calamities 
vhich  the  double  treason  of  this  day  will  bring  upon 
our  martyred  country  I — Murray,  my  friend  !'*  cried 
he,  to  Lord  Andrew  who,  kneeling  by  his  father  gazed 
in  silence  on  his  pallid  face  ;  "  we  must  not  let  the 
brave  dead  perish  in  vain  1  Their  monument  shall 
yet  be  Scotland's  liberties." 

Tears  were  now  coursing  each  other  in  mute  woe 
down  the  cheeks  of  the  affectionate  iqh.     He  coi;ld  no^ 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  9h 

for  some  time  answer  Wallace,  but  he  grapsed  his 
hand,  and  at  last  rapidly  articulated;  "Others  may 
have  fallen,  but  not  mortally  like  him.  Life  may  yet  be 
preserved  in  some  of  our  brave  companions.  Leave 
me,  then,  to  mourn  over  my  dead  alone  I" 

Wallace  saw  that  filial  tenderness  yearned  for  the 
moment  when  it  might  unburthen  its  grief  unchecked 
by  observation.  He  arose,  and  making  a  sign  to  his 
friends,  withdrew  towards  his  men.  Having  sent  a 
small  detachment  to  watch  at  some  little  distance 
around  the  sacred  enclosure  of  Dunipacis,  he  dispatch- 
ed Graham  on  the  dangerous  duty  of  seeking  a  rein- 
forcement for  the  morning ;  and  sending  Scrymgeour 
with  a  resolute  band  across  the  Carron  to  bring  in  the 
wounded,  (for  the  main  body  of  Edward's  army  had  en- 
camped themselves  about  a  mile  south  of  the  field  of 
action;)  he  took  his  solitary  course  along  the  northern 
bank  towards  a  shallow  ford  near  which  he  supposed 
the  squadrons  of  Lord  Loch-awe  must  have  fought,  and 
where  he  hoped  he  might  gain  some  accounts  of  him 
from  some  straggling  survivor  of  his  clan.  When  he 
arrived  at  the  spot  where  the  river  is  narrowest  and 
winds  its  still  stream  beneath  impending  heights  over- 
hung with  hazels  and  weeping  birch,  he  blew  the  Camp- 
bell pibroch :  the  notes  reverbrated  from  rock  to  rock, 
and,  unanswered,  died  away  in  distant  echoes.  But 
still  he  would  not  relinquish  hope ;  and  pursuing  his 
course,  he  emerged  on  an  open  glade  which  lay  un- 
der the  full  light  of  the  moon.  Across  the  river,  at 
some  distance,  a  division  of  the  Southron  tents  whiten- 
ed the  deep  shadows  of  the  bordering  woods  ;  and  be- 
fore them,  on  the  opposite  bank,  he  thought  he  descri- 
ed a  warrior  walking  alone. — Wallace  stopped. — The 
man  approached  the  margin  of  the  stream,  and  looked 
towards  the  Scottish  chief — The  visor  of  Wallace  be- 
ing up,  discovered  his  heroic  countenance  bright  in  the 
moon-beams;  and  the  majesty  of  his  mien,  seemed  to 
declare  him  to  the  Southron  knight,  to  be  no  other 
than  the  Regent  of  Scotland. 

"  Who  art  thou  ?"  cried  the  warrior,  with  a  voice  of 
command  that  better  became  his  lipsj  than  it  was  adapt- 
ed  to  the  man  to  whom  he  spoke. 


^02  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS; 

"The  enemy  of  lifi^land  !"  cried  the  chief. 

"  Thou  art  Wallace !"  was  the  immediate  reply ; 
"  None  else  dare  answer  the  Lord  of  Carrick  with  such 
a  haughty  boldness." 

"  Every  Scot  in  this  land,"  returned  Wallace,  inflam- 
ed with  a  vehement  indignation  he  did  not  attempt  to 
repress;  "  would  thus  answer  Bruce,  not  only  in  refer- 
ence to  England,  but  to  himself  I  to  that  Bruce,  who, 
not  satisfied  with  having  abandoned  his  people  to  their 
enemies,  has  stolen  like  a  base  fratricide  to  slay  his 
brethren  in  their  home  !  To  have  met  them  on  the 
plain  of  Stanmore,  would  have  been  a  deed  his  posteri- 
ty might  have  bewailed  ;  but  what  horror,  what  shame 
will  be  theirs  when  they  know  that  he  came  to  ruin  his 
own  rights,  to  stab  his  people  in  the  very  bosom  of  his 
country! — lam  just  come  from  gazing  on  the  dead 
body  of  the  virtuous  Earl  of  Bothwell !  The  Lords  Bute 
-and  Fife,  and  perhaps  Loch-awe,  have  fallen  beneath 
the  Southron  sword  and  your  unnatural  arm ;  and  yet 
do  you  demand  what  Scot  would  dare  to  tell  you  that 
he  holds  the  Earl  of  Carrick  and  his  coadjutors,  as  his 
most  mortal  foes  ?'' 

"  Ambitious  man  !  Dost  thou  flatter  thyself  with  the 
belief  that  I  am  to  be  deceived  by  thy  pompous  decla- 
mation ?  I  knovr'  the  motive  of  all  this  pretended  patriot- 
ism.— I  am  well  informed  of  the  aim  of  all  this  vaunted 
prowess;  and  I  came,  not  to  fight  the  battles  of  King 
Edward,  but  to  punish  the  proud  usurper  of  the  rights 
of  Bruce. — I  have  gained  my  point. — My  brave  follow- 
ers slew  the  Lord  Bothwell ;  my  brave  follov/ers  made 
the  hitherto  invincible  Wallace  retreat! — I  came  in 
the  power  of  my  birth-right;  and  I  command  you,  as 
your  lawful  king,  this  hour  to  lay  down  your  arms  be- 
fore me. — Obey,  proud  knight,  or  the  day  that  puts  you 
into  Edward's  hands  will  sec  ycu  die  the  death  of  a 
traitor." 

"  Unhappy  prince  ;"  cried  Wallace,  now  suspecting 
that  Bruce  had  been  deceived ;  "  was  it  over  the  necks 
of  your  most  loyal  and  bleeding  subjects,  that  you  would 
mount  your  throne  ? — How  have  you  been  mistaken  ! — 
How  have  you  strengthened  the  hands  of  your  enemy, 
and  weakened  your  own,  by  this  day's  action  I — Tfie 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  93 

cause  is  now  probably  lost  for  ever: — and  from  whom 
are  we  to  date  its  ruin,  but  from  him  to  whom  the  na- 
tion looked  as  to  its  appointed  deliverer  !  From  him? 
whose  once  honoured  name  will  now  be  regarded  with 
execration  1" 

"Burthen  not  my  name,  rash  young  man,"  replied 
Bruce,  "  with  the  charges  belonging  to  your  own  mad 
ambition. — Who  disturbed  the  peace  in  which  Scot- 
land lay  after  the  battle  of  Dunbar,  but  William  Wal- 
lace ?  Who  raised  the  country  in  arms  but  William 
Wallace  ?  Who  stole  from  me  my  birth-right,  and 
fastened  the  people's  love  on  himself,  but  William 
Wallace  ?  Who  affected  to  repel  a  crown,  that  he 
might  the  more  certainly  fix  it  on  his  head,  but  Wil- 
liam Wallace  ?  And  who  dares  now  taunt  me  with  his 
errors  and  mishaps,  but  the  same  traitor  to  his  lawful 
sovereign  ?" 

"  Shall  I  answer  thee.  Lord  of  Carrick,"  replied 
Wallace,  "  with  a  similar  appeal  ? — Who,  when  the 
Southron  tyrant  preferred  a  false  claim  to  the  supre- 
macy of  this  realm,  subscribed  to  the  falsehood,  and  by 
that  action  did  all  in  his  power  to  make  a  free  people 
slaves  ? — Who  when  the  brand  of  cruelty  swept  this 
kingdom  from  shore  to  shore,  lay  in  luxurious  indo- 
lence in  the  usurper's  court  and  heard  of  these  oppres- 
sions of  his  country  without  a  sigh  ?  Who,  horror  on 
horror  !  brought  a  vast  power  into  his  own  inheritance, 
to  lay  it  desolate  before  his  most  mortal  foe  ? — Thy 
heart  will  tell  thee,  Bruce,  who  is  this  man  ;  and  if  ho- 
nour yet  remain  in  that  iron  region,  thou  will  not  dis- 
believe the  asseverations  of  an  honest  Scot,  who  de- 
clares, that  it  was  to  save  them  whom  thou  didst  aban- 
don, that  he  appeared  in  the  armies  of  Scotland.  It 
was  to  supply  the  place  of  thy  desertion,  that  he  as- 
sumed the  rule  with  which  a  grateful  people,  rescued 
from  bondage,  invested  him." 

"  Bold  chieftain  V*  exclaimed  Bruce,  "  is  it  thus 
you  continue  to  brave  your  offended  prince  ?  But  in 
pity  to  your  youth,  in  admiration  of  a  prowess,  which 
would  have  been  godlike,  had  it  been  exerted  for  your 
liovereign  and  not  used  as  a  bait  to  satisfy  an  ambition 
as  wild  as  it  is  towering,  I  would  expostulate  with  you  ;; 


94  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

if  you  yet  are  not  lost  to  all  sober  considerations.  I 
would  even  deign  to  tell  you,  that  the  royal  Bruce,  in 
granting  the  supremacy  of  Edward,  submits,  not  to  the 
mere  wish  of  a  despot,  but  to  the  necessity  of  the 
times.  This  is  not  an  era  of  so  great  loyalty,  that  any 
sovereign  may  venture  to  contend  against  such  an  impe- 
rial arm  as  Edward's.  And  would  you,  a  boy  in  years, 
a  novice  in  politics ;  and  though  brave,  and  till  this 
day  successful,  v/ould  you  pretend  to  prolong  a  war 
with  the  dictator  of  kingdoms  ?  As  a  Scot,  and  in  the 
grace  of  my  royal  clemency,  I  warn  you  against  pursu- 
ing so  vain  and  ruinous  an  enterprise.  If  you  have 
sense  or  reason  left,  endeavour  to  bend  your  inflexible 
spirit  to  submit  to  superior  power,  superior  fortune, 
and  superior  rights.  Can  rational  discrimination  be 
united  with  the  valour  you  possess,  and  you  not  per- 
ceive the  unequal  contest  between  a  weak  state  depriv- 
ed of  its  head  and  agitated  by  intestine  commotions, 
and  a  mighty  nation  conducted  by  the  ablest  and  most 
martial  monarch  of  his  age  ?  A  man,  who  is  not  only 
determined  to  maintain  his  pretensions  to  the  supre- 
macy over  Scotland,  but  is  master  of  every  resource, 
either  for  protracting  the  war,  or  for  pushing  it  with 
vigour.  If  the  love  of  your  country  be  indeed  your 
motive  for  perseverance,  your  obstinacy  tends  only  to 
lengthen  her  misery.  But  if,  as  I  believe  is  the  case, 
you  carry  your  views  to  private  aggrandizement,  re- 
flect on  their  probable  issue.  Should  Edward,  by  a. 
miracle  withdraw  his  armies,  is  it  not  evident,  from 
recent  experience,  that  so  many  haughty  nobles, 
proud  of  the  pre-eminence  of  their  families,  would 
never  submit  to  a  personal  merit  whose  superiority 
they  would  less  regard  as  an  object  of  deference,  than 
as  a  reproach  to  themselves.  As  the  general  of  a 
King  of  Scotland,  you  would  be  a  blessing  to  your 
country;  as  the  usurper  of  its  sovereign's  rights,  you 
are  a  curse;  for  war,  foreign  and  intestine,  must  fol- 
low your  footsteps  till  you  sink  into  the  grave." 

"  To  usurp  any  man's  rights,  and  least  of  all,  my 
king's,'*  replied  Wallace,  "  never  came  within  the 
range  of  my  thoughts.  Though  lowly  born,  Lord 
Carrickj  I  am  not  so  base  as  to  require  assumption  to 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  $5 

give  me  dignity.  I  saw  my  country  turned  into  a  gar- 
rison ;  and  the  miserable  inhabitants  pillaged,  murder- 
ed, and  outraged  in  every  relation  that  is  dear  to  nian. 
AVho  heard  their  cry  ? — Where  was  Bruce  ? — Where 
the  proud  nobles  of  Scotland  ;  that  none  were  near  to 
extinguish  the  flames  of  the  burning  villages,  to  shel- 
ter the  mother  and  the  child,  to  rescue  purity  from  vi- 
olation, to  defend  the  bleeding  father  and  son? — The 
shrieks  of  despair  resounded  through  the  land,  and  none 
arose.  The  hand  of  violence  fell  on  my  own  house ! 
the  wife  of  my  bosom  was  stabbed  to  the  heart  by  a 
magistrate  of  the  fell  usurper  !  1  then  drew  the  sword  1 
— I  took  pity  on  those  who  suffered  as  I  had  suffered  ; 
I  espoused  their  cause,  and  never  will  I  forsake  it  till 
life  forsake  me.  Therefore,  tliat  I  became  the  cham- 
pion of  Scotland,  Lord  of  Carrick,  blame  not  my  am- 
bition, but  rather  the  supineness  of  the  nobility, 
and  chiefly  yourself: — You,  who  uniting  personal  me- 
rit to  dignity  of  descent,  had  deserted  the  post 
which  both  nature  and  circumstance  called  upon  you 
to  occupy  ! — Had  the  Scots,  from  the  time  of  Bidiors 
abdication,  possessed  such  a  leader  as  yourself,  (for 
what  is  the  necessity  of  the  times,  but  the  pusillanimi- 
ty of  those  who  contend  with  Edward  ?)  by  your  valour 
and  their  union,  you  must  have  surmounted  every  diffi- 
culty under  which  we  now  struggle; and  might  have  justly 
hoped  to  have  closed  the  contest  with  success  and  honour. 
If  you  now  start  from  your  guilty  delusion,  it  may  not 
be  too  late  to  rescue  Scotland  from  the  perils  which  sur- 
round her.  Listen  then  to  my  voice,  prince  of  the  blood 
of  Alexander !  forswear  the  tyrant  who  has  cajoled 
you  to  this  abandonment  of  your  country,  and  resolve 
to  be  her  deliverer.  Another  blow  I  yet  meditate  to 
strike,  that  this  tyrant  of  the  earth  shall  not  return 
v/ith  boasts  over  the  country  he  betrayed,  over  the  pa- 
triot band  whom  his  treachery  and  the  treason  of 
March  and  the  two  Cummins  have  brought  into  this 
strait.  The  bravest  of  the  Scots  are  ready  to  acknow- 
ledge you  for  their  lord,  to  reign  as  did  your  forefa- 
thers, untrammelled  by  any  foreign  yoke.  Exchange 
then  a  base  vassalage  for  freedom  and  a  throne  !  Awake 
to  yourself,  #ioble  Bruce,  and  behold  what  it  is  that  I 


.^6  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

propose  !  Heaven  itself  cannot  set  a  more  glorioiu. 
prize  before  the  eyes  of  virtue  or  ambition,  than  to 
join  in  one  object  the  acquisition  of  royalty,  with  the 
maintenance  of  national  independence  ! — Such  is  my 
last  appeal  to  you.  For  myself,  as  I  am  well  convin- 
ced that  the  real  welfare  of  my  country  can  never  sub- 
sist with  the  sacrifice  of  her  liberties,  I  am  determined, 
as  far  as  in  me  lies,  to  prolong,  not  her  miseries,  but 
her  integrity,  by  preserving  her  from  the  contamina- 
tion of  slavery.  But,  should  mysterious  fate  decree 
her  fall,  may  that  power,  which  knows  the  vice  and 
horrors  which  accompany  a  tyrant's  reign,  terminate 
the  existence  of  a  people  who  can  no  longer  preserve 
their  lives  but  by  receiving  laws  from  usurpation.'' 

The  truth  and  gallantry  of  these  sentiments  struck 
the  awakened  mind  of  Bruce  with  the  force  of  convic- 
tion. Another  auditor  was  nigh,  who  also  lost  not  a 
syllable ;  '  and  the  flame  was  conveyed  from  the  breast 
of  one  hero  to  that  of  the  other.* 

Lord  Carrick  secretly  repented  of  all  that  he  had 
done,  but  being  too  proud  to  acknowledge  as  much,  he 
briefly  answered — "  Wallace,  your  words  have  made 
an  impression  on  me  that  may  one  day  still  more  brigh- 
ten the  glory  of  your  fame.  Be  silent  respecting  this 
conference  : — Be  faithful  to  the  principles  you  have  de- 
clared, and  ere  long  you  shall  hear  royally  of  Bruce." 
As  he  spoke  he  turned  abruptly  away,  and  was  lost 
amongst  the  trees.  (p> 

Wallace  had  stood  for  some  minutes  musing  on 
what  had  passed,  when  he  heard  a  footstep  behind  him, 
and  turning  round,  he  beheld  a  young  and  ethereal 
form  habited  in  a  white  hacqueton  wrought  with  gold, 
with  golden  sandals  on  his  feet,  and  a  helmet  of  the 
same  costly  metal  on  his  head  crested  with  white  feath- 
ers. The  moment  the  eyes  of  Wallace  fell  on  him  the 
stranger  threw  himself  on  one  knee  before  him  with 
so  noble  a  grace,  that  the  chief  \vas  lost  in  wonder  what 
this  beautiful  apparition  could  mean,  till  the  youth, 
bowing  his  head,  exclaimed,  "  pardon  this  intrusion, 
bravest  of  men  1  I  come  to  offer  to  you  my  heart,  my 
life  !  To  wash  out  by  your  side,  in  the  blood  of  the 
enemies  of  Scotland,  the  stigma  which  now  dishonor? 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  9/ 

the  name  of  Bruce  1"  "  And  who  are  you,  noble 
youth  ?  cried  Wallace,  raising  him  from  the  ground, 
"  Surely  my  prayers  are  at  last  answered  ;  and  I  hear 
these  sentiments  from  one  of  Alexander's  race  1'* 

"  lam  indeed  of  his  blood,"  replied  he,  "  and  it  must 
now  be  my  study  to  prove  my  descent  by  deeds  worthv 
of  my  ancestor.  I  am  Robert  Bruce,  the  eldest  son  oi 
the  Earl  of  Carrick  and  Annandale.  My  father,  griev- 
ing over  the  slaughter  that  his  valiant  arm  has  made  of 
his  own  people,  (although  till  you  taught  him  other- 
wise, he  believe^  that  they  fought  to  maintain  the  usur 
pationof  an  ambitious  subject ;)  walked  out  in  melan- 
choly. I  followed  him  at  a  distance  ;  and  I  heard  un- 
seen, all  that  has  passed  betv/een  you  and  him.  He- 
has  retired  to  his  tent  ;  and  unknt)wn  to  him  I  hasten- 
ed across  the  Carron  to  avow  my  loyalty  to  virtue,  and 
to  declare  my  determination  to  live  for  Scotland,  or 
to  die  for  her  ;  to  follow  the  arms  of  Sir  William 
Wallace  till  he  plants  my  father  in  the  throne  of  his 
ancestors." 

"  I  take  you  at  your  word,  brave  prince  !"  replied 
the  Regent,  "  and  this  night  shall  give  you  an  oppor- 
tunity to  redeem  to  Scotland  what  your  father's  sword 
has  this  day  wrested  from  her.  What  I  mean  to  do, 
must  be  effected  in  the  course  of  a  few  hours.  That 
done,  it  will  be  prudent  for  you  to  return  to  the  Car- 
rick camp,  and  there  take  the  most  effectual  means  to 
persuade.your  father  to  throw  himself  at  once  into  the 
arms  of  Scotland.  The  whole  nation  will  then  rally 
round  their  king,  and  as  his  weapon  of  war,  I  shall  re- 
joice to  fulfil  the  commission  with  which  God  has  in- 
trusted me  !"  He  then  briefly  unfolded  to  the  eagerly- 
listening  Bruce,  (whose  aspiring  spirit,  inflamed  by 
the  fervor  of  youth,  and  buoyed  up  by  his  natural  cour- 
age, saw  the  glory  alone  of  the  enterprise)  an  attack 
which  he  meant  immediately  to  make  on  the  sleeping- 
camp  of  Edward,  while  his  victorious  troops  deemed 
themselves  secure  of  any  chance  of  disturbance. 

He  had  sent  Sir  John  Graham  to  Stirling  to  call  out 
its  garrison ;  and  Ker  he  had  dispatched  on  a  similar 
errand  to  Dumbarton  j  and  expecting  that  by  this  time 

VOL.  II.  I 


93  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

the  troops  v/ould  be  arrived  on  the  southern  extremi- 
ty of  the  carse,  he  threw  his  plaid  over  the  prince's 
gay  apparel,  to  conceal  him  from  notice,  (for  a  dis- 
covery of  his  being  in  the  Scottish  camp,  might  en- 
danger the  life  of  his  father,)  and  returniiig  to  his  men 
wliO  lay  on  the  northern  bank  of  the  river,  the  Regent 
ordered  one  of  the  yomig  soldiers,  who  seemed  parti- 
cularly fatigued,  to  give  him  his  armour,  as  he  had  a 
use  for  it,  and  then  retire  to  his  repose  in  the  adjoin- 
ing village.  The  brave  Scot,  not  being  aware  that  his 
general  meditated  another  attack,  cheerfully  acqui- 
esced ;  and  Wallace  retiring  amongst  the  trees  with 
his  royal  companion,  Bruce  soon  covered  his  splendid 
liacqueton  v\4th  this  rough  armour,  and  placing  the 
Scottish  bonnet  on  his  head,  put  a  large  stone  into  his 
golden  helmet,  and  sunk  it  in  the  waters  of  the  Car- 
ron.  Being  thus  completely  arm.ed,  when  Wallace 
put  the  trusty  claymore  of  his  country  into  his  iiand 
he  clasped  him  with  a  soldier's  warm  embrace  to  his 
heart. — "  Now  it  is,"  cried  he,  "  that  William  Wallace 
lives  anew,  since  he  has  seen  this  hour  !" 

They  re-emerged  together  from  the  wood,  and  met 
Sir  John  Graham,  who  had  just  arrived  with  five  hun- 
dred fuc.;itives  from  Lord  Bute's  slaughtered  division 
whom  he    had   collected  on   the  Carse.     He  informed 
■  :is  friend  that  the  Earl  of  IVIar  was  within  half  a  mile 
of  the  C^arron,  with  three  thousand  men,  and  that  he 
T*as  joined  by  the  garrison  from  Dumbarton  and  other 
reinforcements  to  a  similar  amount.     While   he   yet 
spoke,  a  squadron  of  armed  mien  approaciied  from  the 
I'orth  side,  and  Wallace   advancing  towards  them,  be- 
held the  Bishop  of  Dunkeld  in  his  sacerdotal  robes  at 
heir  head,  with  a  corselet  on  his   breast,  and  instead 
r  iiis  crosier,  he  carried  a  drav.n  sword;  '-'O — «  We 
tT.u.  t.)  vol-.,  c'namp^on  of  Scotland,"  cried  the  prelate, 
-  v.'iiU    lu  ;-:.  vers  and  the  arms  of  the   church.     The 
sv/ordo  of  the  Lcvitcs  of  old  smote  the  enemies  of  Israel: 
iWi'.]   1-1  tl-.c  s-'.nic  faith,  tliat  the  God  of  justice  will    go 
:;     ^    ;i3  this  nvj^t,   we  codjc  to  fight    for  Sqotland's 
•  li.s." 

';?js  follovv-ei s  c  young  bretiu'en  of  the  mo- 

:.v:  !c- V  ofCairil)'.' ..,  .h,  and  other  neighboring  con- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  99 

vents,  altogether   making  a  stout  and  well-appointed 
legion. 

"  With  this  handful,"  cried  Wallace,  "  heaven-direct- 
ed we  shall  yet  strike  our  Goliah  on  the  forehead  1" 

Lord  Mar  and  Lord  Lenox  now  came  up  :  and  Wal- 
lace, marshalling  his  train,  found  that  he  had  nearly  ten 
thousand  men.  His  plan  of  the  attack  was  immediate- 
ly given  to  the  different  commanders,  and  placing 
Bruce  with  Graham  in  the  van,  before  he  joined  them, 
he  retired  to  the  ruins  near  Dunipacis,  0)  to  see  wheth- 
er the  mourning  solitude  of  Murray  had  continued  un- 
invaded.  The  pious  youth  sat  silent  and  motionless 
by  the  side  of  his  dead  parent  :  And  Wallace,  with- 
out arousing  the  violence  of  grief  by  any  reference  to 
the  sight  before  him,  briefly  related  his  project.  Lore', 
Andrew  started  on  his  feet ;  "  I  v/ill  share  all  the  dan 
gers  of  this  night  !  I  shall  find  comfoi't  in  again  mee:  • 
ing  the  foe  that  has  thus  bereaved  me.  This  dark 
mantle,"  cried  he,  turning  towards  the  breathless  corse, 
and  throv/ing  his  plaid  over  it,  "will  shroud  thy  hai- 
lovvcd  remains  till  I  return.— -I  go  where  thou  wouldst. 
direct  me-— Oh,  my  father  1"  suddenly  exclaimed  he,  iu 
a  burst  of  grief,  "the  trumpet  shall  sound,  and  thou  wilt 
not  hear  ! — But  I  go  to  take  vengeance  for  thy  blood  1" 
So  saying  he  sprung  from  the  place  ;  and  accompeaiyinc 
Wallace  to  the  plain,  took  his  station  in  the  silent  b- 
swiftly  moving  army. 


CHAP.  X. 

.1  HE  troops  of  King  Edward  lay  overpowered  with 
Avine.  Elated  with  victory,  they  had  drank  largely,  the 
royal  pavilion  setting  them  the  example  ;  for  thougb. 
Edward  was  temperate,  yet  to  flatter  his  recovered 
friends,  the  inordinate  Buchan  and  Soulis,  he  had  al- 
lowed a  greater  excess  that  night,  than  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  sanction.  The  banquet  over,  every  knight 
retired  to  his  tent,  every  soldier  to  his  pallet,  and  ;r 
deep  sleep'  lay  upon  eycry  man.     The  king  hims'-]'" 


00  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

whose  many  thoughts  had  long  kept  waking,  jiow  fell 
"nto  a  slumber. 

Guards  had  been  placed  around  the  camp,  moi*e  for 
Px-'.illtary  cercniiony  than  with  an  idea  of  its  being  requi- 
site. The  strength  of  Wallace,  they  believed  broken 
for  ever,  and  that  they  should  have  nothing  to  do  next 
iTJorning,  but  to  chase  him  into  Stirling  and  take  him 
ihere.  But  the  spirit  of  the  Regent  ^yas  not  so  easily 
subdued  :  He  ever  thought  that  it  v;as  shameful  to  de- 
spair v.hile  it  was  possible  to  succeed.  And  now  lea- 
ding bis  determined  followers  through  the  lower 
;:i,-rounds  of  Cumbernauld,  he  detached  half  his  force 
under  Mar  to  take  the  Southron  camp  in  the  rear,  while 
he  should  attack  the  front,  and  pierce  his  way  to  the 
royal  tent. 

With  soundless  caution  the  battalion  of  Mar  wound 
round  by  the  banks  of  the  Forth  to  reach  the  point  of 
its  destination.  And  Wallace,  proceeding  with  as  noise- 
less a  step,  gained  the  hill  which  overlooked  his  sleep- 
ing enemies.  Each  of  his  men  in  front,  shrouded  by  a. 
branch,  which  in  his  march  by  Tor  wood  he  had  torn 
from  the  trees,  now  stood  still.-— Without  this  precau- 
tion, had  any  eye  looked  up,  they  must  have  been  per- 
ceived; but  as  it  was,  their  figures  were  so  blended 
with  the  adjoining  thickets,  that  their  appearance  might 
':^asily  be  mistaken.  As  the  moon,  the  signal  of  the  at- 
tack, sunk  in  the  horizon,  they  stole  gently  down  the 
Tiill,  and  scarcely  drawing  bre-ath,  were  within  a  few- 
paces  of  the  first  outpost  vv'hen  one  of  the  sentinels  star- 
ling from  his  reclining  position,  suddenly  cried  "  What 
is  that  ?"  "  Only  the  wind  amongst  the  trees  ;"  return- 
e.d  his  com.rade,  "  I  see  their  branches  waving. — Let 
me  sleep,  for  Wallace  yet  lives,  and  v/e  may  have  hot 
work  to-morrow."  Wallace  did  live,  and  the  men  slept 
to  wake  no  more,  for  a  Scottish  brand  was  through  ev- 
ery Southron  heart  on  the  outpost.  That  done,  he 
i:hrew  away  his  bough,  leaped  the  narrow  dyke  which 
lay  in  front  of  the  camp,  and  with  Bruce  and  Graham  at 
the  head  of  a  thousand  men,  cautiously  proceeded  on- 
M'ard  to  reach  the  pavilion.  At  the  moment  when  lie 
should  blow  his  bugle,  the  divisions  he  had  left  with 
Lennox  and  Murray  and  with  Lord  Mar,  were  to  press 
forward  to  gain  the  same  point.  ^ 


THE  SCOTTISH  CI  lOi 

Still  all  lay  in  profound  repose  ;— and  the  dauntless 
Scots,  guided  by  the  lamps  wliich  burnt  ra'ound  the 
royal  quarters,  reached  the  tent.  Wallace  liad  already 
laid  his  hand  upon  the  curtain  which  was  its  door  whci 
an  armed  man  with  a  presented  pike  demanded,  "  Whv 
comes  here  ?"  the  Regent's  ansv/er  laid  the  intcrroga 
tor's  head  at  his  feet:  But  the  voice  had  awakened  the 
ever-watchful  kinc^;  and  in  one  instant  perceiving  the 
fate  of  his  guard,  he  snatched  his  sword,  and  calling 
aloud  on  his  sleeping  train,  sprung  from  his  couch  , 
and  was  immediately  surrounded  by  half  a  score 
knights,  who  had  started  on  their  feet  before  Wallace 
could  reach  the  spot.  But  short  would  have  been  their 
protection  ;  they  fell  before  his  arm  and  that  of  Graham, 
and  left  a  vacant  place  ;  for  Edward  had  disappeared. 
Foreseeing,  from  the  prowess  of  these  midnight  inva 
ders,  the  consequence  to  his  guards,  he  had  made  d. 
timely  escape  by  a  passage  which  he  cut  for  himselt 
through  the  canvass  of  his  tent.  W^allace  perceived 
that  his  prize  had  escaped  his  hands  ;  but  yet  he  hoped 
to  drive  him  altogether  from  the  field ;  and  immediate- 
ly sounding  his  bugle,  he  caught  one  of  the  torches  from. 
the  monarch's  table,  and  setting  fire  to  the  adjoining 
drapery,  rushed  from  its  blazing  volumes  to  meet  his 
brave  colleagues  amongst  the  disordered  lines.  Gra- 
ham and  his  followers,  with  fire-brands  In  their  handsj 
threw  conflagration  into  the  camp  in  a  thousand  direc- 
tions, and  with  the  fearful  war-cries  of  their  country, 
seemed  to  assail  the  terrified  enemy  from  as  many 
points.  Men,  half  dressed,  and  unarmed,  flew  out  of 
their  tents,  upon  the  pikes  of  their  enemies  ;  thousands 
fell  without  striking  a  blow ;  and  they  who  were  sta- 
tioned nearest  the  out-posts,  panic-struck,  betook  them 
selves  to  flight,  and  scattered  themselves  in  scared 
throngs  over  the  amazed  plains  of  Lirdithgow. 

The  king  in  vain  sought  to  rally  his  men,  and  to  re- 
mind them  of  their  late  victory.  The  English  alono 
stood  by  him  ;  superstiuori  had  i^id  her  petrifying  hand 
on  all  the  rest: — Tne  ^['.•sh  bjii<^ved  tnat  a  terrible 
judgii^c  .-  ^cr.d  fuiJeu  aj..Li-  Lheiv:  /or  ..;:'pcaring  in  arms 
again:  :•  ir  sister  pc-  pit- ^  a.nd  li-..  '-Vc^^r.i.as  they  des- 
crie.  .r:ikc-  bisi.op  oi  DunkwiU  isbuing  from  the 

i2 


\02  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS, 

rnists  of  the  river,  ancrcharijing  on  his  foaming  steed 
along  their  flying  defiles,  could  not  persuade  them- 
selves that  Merlin  had  not  arisen  to  chastise  their  obe- 
dience to  the  ravager  of  their  country.  Every  super- 
stitious, every  panic  fear,  took  possession  of  the  half  in- 
toxicated, half  dreaming  wretches;  and  falling  in  bloo- 
dy and  unresisting  heaps  all  around,  it  was  rather  a 
slaughter  than  a  battle.  Opposition  seemed  abandoned 
excepting  where  the  King  of  England  stood  amongst 
his  brave  countrymen,  and  the  faithless  Scots  who  had 
followed  the  Cummins  to  the  field,  and  who  now  fought 
with  the  fury  of  desperation.  But  where  despair,  and 
the  madness  of  v/ine  were  the  impulses  which  impelled 
his  adversaries,  Wallace  perceived  that  steadiness 
//ould  ultimately  make  them  give  ground;  and  Graham 
having  seized  some  of  their  v/ar-engines,  he  directed 
him  to  discharge  on  the  Southron  phalanx,  a  shower  of 
those  blazing  arrows  which  had  wrought  such  dire  ef- 
fects amongst  the  Scottish  legions. 

The  camp  v/as  now  on  fire  in  every  direction  :  and 
P.dward,  putting  all  to  the  hazard  of  one  decisive  blow, 
ordered  his  men  fiercely  to  charge  the  as-sailants,  and  to 
make  at  once  to  the  point  where,  by  the  light  of  the 
ilaming  tents,  he  could  perceive  the  waving  plumes  of 
Wallace.  With  his  ponderous  mace  held  terribly  in 
rhe  air,  the  king  himself  bore  down  to  the  shock,  and 
breaking-  through  the  intervening  combatants,  assaulted 
ihc  chief.  The  might  of  ten  thousand  souls  seemed 
ihen  to  be  in  the  arm  of  the  Regent  of  Scotland.  The 
puissant  Edv.'-ard  wondered  at  himself  Jis  he  shrunk  from 
oefore  his  strokes  ;  as  he  shuddered  at  the  heroic 
fierceness  of  a  countenance  which  seemed  more  than 
inortal.  Was  it  indeed  the  Scottish  chieftain  ?  or  some 
armed  angel  thait  had  descended  to  fight  the  battles  of 
the  oppressed  ? — Edward  trembled :  His  mace  was 
struck  from  his  hand ; — but  immediately  a  glittering 
iaulchion  supplied  its  place,  and  with  recovering  pre- 
sence of  mind,  and  redoubled  determination,  he  renew- 
ed the  combat. 

At  this  instant,  the  young  Bruce  who,  in  his  humble 
:Vi'mour,  might  have  been  passed  by  as  an  enemy  to  be 
'reft  to  meaner  swords,  checkiijg  the  onward  speed  of 


THE  SCOTTISH  CPIIEFS.  lOi 

March,  pierced  him  at  once  through  the  heart :  "  Die, 
thou  disgrace  to  the  name  of  Scot,"  cried  he,  "  and 
•with  thy  blood  wipe  off  my  stains  !"  His  sword  now- 
laid  hundreds  at  his  feet; — and  while  the  tempest  of 
death  blew  around,  the  groans  of  the  dying,  the  shrieks 
of  the  wounded,  and  the  outcries  of  those  w^ho  were 
perishing  in  the  flames,  raised  such  distraction  in  the 
king's  ranks,  and  so  great  a  fear  in  the  minds  of  the  Cum- 
min clan,  that,  breaking  from  the  royal  line  with  horri- 
ble yells  of  dismay,  they  fled  in  all  directions  after  their 
already  fugitive  allies. 

Edward  seeing  the  Earl  of  March  fall,  and  finding 
himself  wounded  in  many  places,  with  a  backward  step 
received  the  blows  of  Wallace  ;  but  that  determined 
chief  following  up  his  advantage,  made  a  stroke  at  his 
head  which  threw  him  astounded  into  the  arms  of  his 
followers  just  as  Lincoln  aimed  his  dagger  at  the  back 
of  Wallace,  and  was  sent  by  the  valiant  arm  of  Gra- 
ham a  motionless  body  to  the  earth.  The  Soutnrons 
ranks  closed  immediately  before  their  insensible  mon- 
arch, and  a  contest  more  desperate  than  any  that  had 
preceded  it,  took  place.  Hosts  seemed  to  fall  on  both, 
sides ;  and  at  last  the  Southrons,  (having  stood  thcii 
ground  till  Edward  was  carried  far  from  farther  danger,) 
suddenly  wheeling  about,  fled  precipitately  towards  the 
east.  Wallace  pursued  them  on  full  charge  ;  and  driv- 
ing them  across  the  Lowlands  of  Linlithgow ;  learnt 
from  some  prisoners  he  took,  that  the  earl  of  Carrick 
had  retreated  towards  the  Lothians  as  soon  as  tidings  of 
the  attack  had  reached  his  camp. 

"Now  is  your  time,"  said  Wallace  to  Bruce,  *'to 
rejoin  your  father.  Bring  him  to  Scotland";,  and  a  free 
crown  awaits  him.  Your  actions  of  this  night  are  a 
pledge  to  your  country  of  the  virtues  which  will  sup- 
port his  throne  !" 

The  young  warrior  throwing  off  his  rugged  hauberk, 
appeared  again  in  his  princely  gurb  ;  and  embracing  the 
Regent,  "  If  a  messenger  from  myself,  or  from  my  fa- 
ther," said  he,  "  meet  you  not  ut  Stirling,  you  muy  be 
sure  that  some  evil  has  beiided  us;  for,  if  God  speecl 
us,  our  embassador  shall  be  there  to-moprow  night. 
Metunyhile,  farewell :" 


104  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Bruce  remounted  his  horse,  and  spurring  over  the 
banks  of  the  Almond,  was  soon  out  of  sight. 

The  pursuit  Wallace  stili  led  ;  and  pouring  his  troops 
through  Ettrick  Forest;  (for  now  the  rising  sun  shone 
on  those  thronging  auxiliaries  from  the  adjoining  coun- 
ties, which  his  provident  orders  had  prepared  to  turn 
out  on  the  first  appearance  of  this  martial  chase ;)  he 
drove  the  fiying  host  of  England  across  Tweedaie  far 
into  Northumberland  ; — and  there  checking  his  trium- 
phant squadrons,  returned  with  abated  speed  into  his 
own  country.  Sending  off  those  which  belonged  to  the 
border  castles,  he  marched  leisurely,  that  his  brave  sol- 
diers, v/ho  had  sustained  the  weight  of  the  battle,  might 
recover  their  exhausted  strength. 

At  Peebles  he  was  agreeably  surprised  by  the  sight 
of  Edwin.  Lord  Ruthven,  though  ignorant  of  the  re- 
commenced hostilities  of  Edward,  had  been  so  impa- 
tient to  resume  his  duties,  that  as  soon  as  he  was  able 
to  move,  he  set  off  on  his  return  to  Perth.  On  arriving 
at  Hunting-tower  he  was  told  of  the  treachery  of  March  ; 
that  the  Regent  had  beaten  the  enemy  on  the  banks  of 
the  Carron,  and  was  pursuing  him  through  Ettrick  Fo- 
rest into  Northumberland.  Ruthven  was  inadequate 
to  the  exertion  of  following  the  successful  troops;  but 
Edwin,  rejoicing  at  this  new  victory,  would  not  be  de- 
tained ;  and  crossing  the  Forth  into  Mid-Lothian,  sped 
his  eager  way  until  the  happy  moment  when  he  again 
found  himself  by  the  side  of  his  first  and  dearest  friend. 

As  they  continued  their  route  together,  Edwin  in- 
quired the  events  of  the  past  time  ;  and  heard  them 
related  with  wonder,  horror,  and  gratitude.  Grateful 
for  the  preservation  of  Wallace  in  all  these  dreadful 
scenes  of  carnage,  grateful  for  the  rescue  of  his  coun- 
try from  the  very  jaws  of  destruction ;  for  some  time 
he  could  only  clasp  his  friend's  hand  with  strong  emo- 
tion fervently  and  often  to  his  heart.  The  death  of  his 
uncle  Bothwell  made  it  tremble  within  him,  at  the 
thought  of  how  much  severer  might  have  been  his  de- 
privation :  At  last  extricating  his  powers  of  speech  from 
the  spell  of  contradictory  feelings  v>^hicn  bound  them  up, 
he  said — "  But  if  my  uncle  Mar,  and  our  brave  friend 
Graham,  were  in  the  last  conflict  j  where  are  they,  that 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  105 

I  do  n6t  see  them  share  your  victory  ? " — "  I  hope,"  re- 
turned Wallace,  "  that  we  shall  rejoin  them  in  safety 
at  Stirling  I  Our  troops  parted  in  the  pursuit;  and  af- 
ter having  sent  back  the  Lowland  chieftains,  you  see  I 
have  none  v;ith  me  now  but  my  own  particular  follow- 
ers, and  our  dear  Murray  with  his." 

According  to  the  Regent's  expectations  that  he  should 
soon  fall  in  with  some  of  the  chasing  squadrons,  the 
next  morning,  on  crossing,  the  Bathgate  Hills,  he  met 
the  returning  battalions  of  Lennox  and  Lord  Mar,  and 
also  Sir  John  Graham's.  Lord  Lennox  was  thanked  by 
Wallace  for  his  good  services  ;  and  immediately  dis- 
patched to  re-occupy  his  jurisdiction  over  Dumbarton. 
But  the  captains  of  Mar  and  of  Graham  could  give  no 
other  account  of  their  leaders,  than  that  they  last  saw 
them  fighting  valiantly  in  the  Southron  camp ;  and  had 
since  supposed  that  when  the  pursuit  sounded,  they  had 
joined  the  Regent's  squadron.  A  cold  dew  fell  over 
the  limbs  of  Wallace  at  these  tidings :  He  looked  on 
Murray  and  on  Edwin.  The  expression  of  the  former's 
face  told  him  what  were  his  fears ;  -but  Edwin,  ever 
sanguine,  strove  to  encourage  him  with  the  hope  that 
all  might  yet  be  well.  "  They  may  not  have  yet  return- 
ed from  the  pursuit ;  and  most  likely  are  in  the  Bishop 
of  Dunkeld's  company,  as  he  is  not  here  I  Or  they  may 
have  arrived,  and  gone  into  Stirling  I" 

But  these  comfortings  were  soon  dispelled  by  the 
appearance  of  Lord  Riithven  himself,  (who  having  been 
apprized  of  the  Regent's  approach)  came  forth  to  meet 
liim.  The  pleasure  of  seeing  the  Earl  so  far  recover- 
ed as  to  have  been  enabled  to  leave  Hunting-tower,  was 
checked  by  the  first  glance  of  his  face  on  which  was 
deeply  characterized  some  tale  of  grief.  Edwin  thought 
that  it  was  the  recent  disasters  of  Scotland  he  mourned, 
and  with  a  cheering  voice  he  exclaimed, — "  Courage, 
my  father  !  our  Regent  again  comes  a  conqueror  1  Ed- 
ward has  once  -more  recrossed  the  plains  of  Northum- 
berland 1" 

"  Thanks  be  to  God,  for  that !"  replied  Ruthven ; 
"  but,  my  dear  son,  what  has  not  these  last  conflicts 
cost  our  country  ?  Lord  Mar  is  wounded  unto  death  ; 
and  lies  in  a  chamber  next  to  the  yet  unburicd  corses 


1.06  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

of  Lord  Bute  and  the  dauntless  Graham." — Wallace 
turned  deadly  pale,  a  mist  passed  over  his  eyes,  and 
staggering,  he  breathlessly  supported  himself  on  the 
arm  of  Edwin.  Murray  looked  on  him;  but  all  was 
still  in  his  heart :  his  ov/n  beloved  father  had  fallen, 
and  in  that  stroke  fate  seemed  to  have  emptied  all  her 
quiver. 

"  Lead  me  to  the  spot  I'*  cried  Wallace  ;  •'  shew  me 
where  my  friends  lie  ;  and  let  me  hear  the  last  prayer 
for  Scotland,  from  the  lips  of  the  bravest  of  her  veter- 
ans 1" 

Ruthven  turned  the  head  of  his  horse ;  and  as  he 
rode  along,  he  informed  the  Regent,  that  Edwin  had 
not  left  Hunting-tower  for  the  Forth  half  an  hour,  when 
an  express  arrived  there  from  Falkirk.  By  it  he  learnt,  | 
that  as  soon  as  the  inhabitants  of  Stirling  saw  the  fire 
of  the  Southron  camp,  they  had  hastened  thither  in 
crowds  to  enjoy  the  spectacle.  Some,  bolder  than  the 
rest,  entered  its  deserted  confines,  (for  the  retreating 
squadrons  were  then  flying  over  the  pla.in,)  and  amidst 
the  dreadful  slaughter-house  they  thought  they  distin- 
guished groans.  Whether  friend  or  foe,  they  stooped 
to  render  assistance  to  the  sufferer,  and  soon  found  it 
to  be  Lord  Mar.  He  begged  to  be  carried  to  some 
shelter,  that  he  might  see  his  wife  and  daughter  before 
he  died.  The  people  drew  him  out  from  under  his 
horse  and  a  mangled  heap,  where  he  had  lain  pierced 
with  wounds  and  crushed  almost  to  death.  He  was 
conveyed  to  Falkirk  as  the  nearest  place,  and  lodged 
with  the  friars  in  the  convent.  "  A  messenger  was  in- 
stantly dispatched  to  me ;"  continued  Ruthven,  '*  and 
indifferent  to  all  personal  considerations,  when  so  sum- 
moned, I  set  out  immediately.  I  saw  my  dying  brother- 
in-law.  At  his  request,  that  others  might  not  suffer, 
by  neglect,  what  he  had  endured  under  the  pressure  of 
the  slain,  the  field  had  been  sought  for  the  wounded. 
Many  were  conveyed  into  the  neighbouring  houses; 
and  the  dead  were  consigned  to  the  earth.  Deep  has 
been  dug  the  graves  of  mingled  Scot  and  English  on 
the  banks  of  the  Carron.  Many  of  our  fallen  nobles, 
amongst  whom  was  the  princely  Badcnoch,  hn,vc  been 
conveyed  to  the  cemetery  of  their  ancestors  ire 


*    THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  107 

entombed  in  the  church  of  Falkirk  :  But  the  bodies  of 
Sir  John  Graham  and  my  brother  Bothwell,"  said  he, 
in  a  loafer  tone,  "  I  have  retained  till  you  return." — 
"  You  have  done  right,"  replied  Wallace,  and  spurring 
forward,  in  a  few  minutes  he  ascended  the  hill  of  Fal- 
kirk, and  soon  after  entered  the  monastery  where  the 
Earl  of  Mar  lay. 

He  stopped  before  the  cell  which  contained  the  dyinc; 
nobleman,  and  desired  the  Abbot  to  apprize  the  Earl  of 
his  arrival.  The  sound  of  that  voice,  whose  heart- 
consoling  tones  could  be  matched  by  none  other  on 
earth,  penetrated  to  the  ear  of  his  almost  insensible 
friend.  Mar  started  from  his  pillow,  and  Wallace, 
through  the  half  open  door,  heard  him  say — "  Let  him 
come  in,  Joanna !  All  mv  mortal  hopes  now  hang  on 
him.'' 

Wallace  instantly  stepped  forvvPird,  and  beheld  the 
veteran  stretched  on  a  couch,  the  image  of  that  death  to 
Avhich  he  was  so  rapidly  approaching.  He  hastened  to- 
wards him  ;  and  the  dying  man,  who  found  friendship, 
and  the  hopes  which  stili  agitated  him,  give  to  his  de- 
bilitated nerves  a  momentary  revival,  astretched  fortli 
his  arms,  and  exclaimed,-—"  Come  to  me  Wallace,  my 
son  :  the  only  hope  of  Scotland,  the  only  human  trust 
of  this  anxious  paternal  heart  1" 

Wallace  threw  himself  on  his  knees  beside  him,  and 
taking  his  hand,  pressed  it  in  speechless  anguish  to  his 
lips;  every  present  grief  was  then  weighing  on  his 
soul,  and  denied  him  the  power  of  utterance.  Lady 
Mar  sat  by  the  piiiow  of  lier  husband  ;  but  she  bore  no 
marks  of  the  sorrow  which  convulsed  the  frame  of 
Wallace.  She  looked  serious  ;  but  her  cheek  wore  its 
freshest  bloom.  She  spoke  not ;  and  the  veteran  allowed 
the  tears  of  evifceblcd  aature  to  fall  on  the  bent  head  of 
his  friend.  "  Mourn  not  for  me  ;"  cried  he,  "  nor  think 
that  these  are  regretful  drops.  I  have  died  as  I  have 
wished,  in  the  field  of  battle  for  Scotland.  Time  must 
have  soon  laid  my  grey  hairs  ignobly  in  the  gi^ive  ;  and 
to  enter  it  thus,  covered  with  honourable  wounds,  is 
glory  ; — and  it  has  long  been  my  prayer  1  But,  dearest, 
most  unwearied  of  friends  1  Siili  the  tears  of  mortality 
■^vin  flow,  for  I  leave  my  chiidre'.i  fatherless  in   thi.-; 


.OS 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  ^. 


faithless  world — And  my  Helen  1  Oh,  Wallace,  the 
angel  who  exposed  her  precious  self  through  the  dan- 
gers of  that  midnight  walk,  to  save  Scotland,' her  fa- 
ther, and  his  friend,  is  lost  to  me !  Joanna,  tell  the 
rest,"  said  he  gasping,  "  for  I  cannot.'* 

Wallace  turned  to  Lady  Mar  with  an  inquiring  look 
©f  such  wild  horror,  that  she  found  her  tongue  cleave  to 
the  roof  of  her  mouth,  and  her  complexion  faded  into 
the  pallidness  of  his.  "  Surely,"  exclaimed  he, "  there 
is  not  to  be  a  wreck  of  all  that  is  estimable  on  earth  ? 
The  Lady  Helen  is  not  dead  ?" — "  No ;"  said  the  Earl, 
a  but — "  he  could  proceed  no  farther,  and  Lady  Mar 
forced  herself  to  speak. — "  She  has  fallen  into  the  hands 
of  the  enemy.  My  lord,  on  being  brought  to  this  place, 
sent  for  myself  and  Lady  Helen ;  we  obeyed  his  sum- 
mons ;  but  in  passing  by  Dunipacis  a  squadron  issued 
from  behind  the  mound,  and  putting  our  attendants  to 
flight,  seized  Helen.  I  escaped  hither.  The  reason  of 
this  attack  was  explained  an  hour  afterwards  by  one  of 
the  Southrons,  who  having  been  wounded  by  cur  es- 
cort, ai>d  incapacitated  from  following  his  comrades, 
was  taken  and  brought  to  Falkirk.  He  said,  that  Lord 
Aymer  de  Valence  having  been  sent  by  his  beset  mon- 
arch to  call  Lord  Carrick  to  his  assistance,  found  the 
Bruce's  camp  deserted ;  but  a  confidant  of  his  bringing 
him  information  that  he  had  overheard  some  men  v/ho 
•\veve  going  to  bring  Lady  Helen  to  Falkirk,  he  imme- 
diately stationed  himself  in  ambuscade  behind  Dunipa- 
cis, and  springing  out  as  soon  as  our  cavalcade  was  in 
view,  seized  her.  She  obtained,  the  rest  were  allowed 
lo  escape.  And,  it  seems,  by  what  Lord  Mar  has  lately 
told  me,  thatDe  Valence  loved  Helen  ;  hence  I  cannot 
doubt  that  he  will  have  Iwnour  enough  not  to  insult  the 
fame  of  her  family,  but  to  make  her  his  wife." 

"  God  forbid  1"  ejaculated  Mar,  holding  up  his  trem- 
bling hands,  "  God  forbid  that  my  blood  should  ever 
mingle  with  that  of  any  one  of  the  people  who  have 
wrought  such  woe  to  Scotland :  Swear  to  me,  valiant 
Wallace,  by  the  virtues  of  her  virgin  heart,  by  your  own 
immaculate  honour,  that  you  will  rescue  my  Helen 
from  the  power  of  this  Southron  lord  1" 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  109 

•*  So  help  me  Heaven  l"  answered  Wallace,  looking^ 
steadfastly  upwards.  A  groan  burst  from  the  lips  of 
Lady  Mar,  and  her  head  sunk  on  the  side  of  the  couch. 
— "  What  ? — Who  is  that  ?'*  exclaimed  Mar,  starting. 
a  little  from  his  pillow.  "  Believe  it  your  country, 
Donald  \"  replied  she,  "  to  what  do  you  bind  its  onty 
defender  ?  Are  you  not  throwing  him  into  the  very  cen- 
tre of  his  enemies,  by  making  him  swear  to  rescue  He- 
len ?  Think  you  that  De  Valence  will  not  foresee  a 
pursuit,  and  take  her  into  the  heart  of  England  ?  And 
thither  must  our  Regent  follow  him  ! — Oh,  my  lord,  re- 
tract your  demand  1  Release  Sir  William  Wallace  from 
a-  vow  that  will  destroy  him  1" — "  Wallace  !"  cried  the 
now  soul -struck  Earl,  "  W^hat  have  I  dt)ne  ?  Has  a 
father's  anxiety  asked  of  you  amiss  ?  If  so,  pardon  me  I 
But  if  my  daughter  also  must  be  sacrificed  for  Scotland, 
take  her,  O  God  !  uncontaminated,  and  let  us  meet  in 
heaven  !  Wallace,  I  dare  not  accept  your  vow  "  "  But 
I  will  fulfil  it,"  cried  he.  "  Let  thy  paternal  heart  rest 
in  peace  ;  and  by  Jesus'  help.  Lady  Helen  shall  again  be 
in  her  own  country  as  free  from  Southron  taint,  as  she 
is  from  all  mortal  sins  !  De  Valence  dare  not  approach 
her  heavenly  innocence  with  violence  ;  and  her  faithful 
Scottish  heart  will  never  consent  to  give  him  a  lawful 
claim  to  her  precious  self.  Edward's  legions  are  far 
•beyond  the  borders ;  but  yet  I  will  reach  him ;  for  the 
demands  of  the  morning  at  Falkirk,  are  now  to  be  an- 
swered in  the  halls  of  Stirling." 

Lord  Ruthven,  followed  by  Edwin  and  Murray,  en- 
tered the  room. — The  two  nephews  held  each  a  hand  of 
their  dying  uncle  in  theirs,  when  Lady  Ruthven,  who, 
exhausted  with  fatigue  and  anxiety,  had  retired  about 
an  hour  before  to  take  some  rest,  appeared  at  the  door 
of  the  apartment.  She  had  been  informed  of  the  arrival 
of  the  Regent  with  her  son,  and  she  now  hastened  to 
give  them  a  sorrowful  welcome. — "  Ah,  my  lord  !'*  cri- 
ed she,  as  Wallace  pressed  her  matron  cheek  to  his; 
*'  this  is  not  as  your  triumphs  are  wont  to  be  greeted  i 
You  are  still  a  conqueror;  and  yet  death,  dreadful 
death,  lies  all  around  us  !  And  our  Helen  too  !"  "  Shall 
be  restored  to  you,"  returned  he.  "  What  is  yet  left 
for  me  to  do,  shall  be  done  ;  and  then——"  he  paused 

VOL.    II.  X 


€J. 


n6  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

iind  added,  "  The  time  is  not  far  distant,  Lady  Kuthven., 
when  we  shall  all  meet  in  the  realms  to  which  so  many 
of  our  dear£st  friends  have  hastened." 

Edwin  with  swimming  eyes  drew  towards  his  master. 
— "  My  uncle  would  sleep,"  said  he,  "he  is  exhausted, 
and  will  recall  us  when  he  awgikes  from  his  rest."  The 
ryes  of  the  veteran  were  at  that  moment  closed  with 
lieavy  slumber.  And  Lady  Ruthven  remaining  with 
the  Countess  to  watch  by  him,  Wallace  led  the  way,  and 
Ruthven,  with  the  two  young  men,  followed  him  out  of 
the  room. 

Lord  Loch-awe,  with  the  Bishop  of  Dunkeld,  and 
other  nobles,  lay  in  different  cells,  pierced  with  many 
wounds,  but  not  so  grievous  as  those  of  Lord  Mar.— 
Wallace  visited  them  all.  And  having  gone  through 
the  numerous  places  in  the  neighbourhood  which  were 
filled  with  his  wounded  men,  at  the  glooming  of  eve- 
ning he  returned  to  Falkirk.  Edwin,  he  sent  forward 
to  inquire  after  the  repose  of  his  uncle ;  and  on  re- 
entering the  monastery  himself,  he  requested  the  ab- 
bot who  met  him,  to  conduct  him  to  the  apartment 
where  lay  the  remains  of  Sir  John  Graham.  The  fa- 
ther obeyed,  and  leading  him  along  a  dark  passage, 
opened  a  door  and  discovered  the  slain  hero  lying  on  a 
bier  covered  with  a  shroud.  Two  monks  sat  at  his 
head,  with  tapers  in  their  hands.  Wallace,  on  enter- 
ing, waved  them  to  withdraw  ;  they  set  down  the  lights, 
and  obeyed. 

He  stood  for  some  time  with  clasped  hands,  looking 
intently  on  the  body  as  it  lay  extended  before  him. 
"  Graham  !  Graham!"  cried  he  at  last,  in  a  voice  of  un- 
utterable grief,  "  dost  thou  not  rise  at  thy  general's 
voice  ?  Oh  I  Is  this  to  be  the  tidings  I  am  to  send  to  the 
brave  father  that  intrusted  to  me  his  son  ?  Lost  in  the 
prime  of  youth,  in  the  opening  of  thy  renown,  is  it  thus 
that  all  W'hich  is  good  is  to  be  martyrized  by  the  ene- 
mies of  Scotland  ?''  He  sunk  gradually  on  his  kness 
beside  him. — "  And  shall  I  not  look  once  more  on  that 
face,"  said  he,  "  which  ever  turned  towards  mine  with 
looks  of  faith  and  love?"  The  shroud  was  drawn  down 
by  his  hand.  He  started  on  his  feet  at  the  sight.  The 
changing  touch  of  death   had  altered  every  feature.; 


SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  1 1  i 

and  deepened  the  paleness  of  the  bloodless  corse  into  fiu 
ashy  hue.  "  Where  is  the  countenance  of  my  friend  1" 
cried  he,  "  ^\■here  the  spirit  which  once  mov.ed  in  beauty 
and  animating  light  over  this  face  ? — Gone  ;  and  all  I 
see  before  me  is  a  mass  of  moulded  clay.  Graham  1 
Graham  1"  cried  he,  looking  upwards,  "thou  art  not 
here.  No  more  can  I  recognise  my  friend  in  this  de- 
serted habitation  of  thy  soul.  Thine  own  proper  self, 
thine  immortal  spirit,  is  ascended  up  above;  and  there 
my  fond  remembrance  shall  ever  sock  thee  1"  Again 
h€  knelt;  but  it  was  in  devotion;  a  devotion  which 
drew  the  sting  from  death,  and  opened  to  his  view  the 
victory  of  the  Lord  of  Life  over  the  king  of  terrors. 

Edwin  having  learnt  from  his  father  that  Lord 
Mar  still  slept,  and  being  told  by  the  Abbot  where  the 
Regent  was,  followed  him  to  the  consecrated  chamber. 
On  entering,  he  perceived  him  kneeling  in  prayer 
over  the  body  of  his  friend.  Edwin  drew  near. — He 
loved  the  brave  Graham,  and  he  almost  adored  Wallace. 
The  scene,  therefore,  smote  upon  his  heart. — He  drop- 
ped down  by  the  side  of  the  Regent ;  and  throwing  his 
arms  around  his  neck,  in  a  convulsive  voice  exclaimed, 
^  Our  friend  is  gone — but  I  yet  live,  and  only  in  your 
smiles,  my  friend  and  ])rother  1'*  Wallace  strained  him 
to  his  breast :  he  was  silent  for  some  minutes  ;  and 
then  said,  "  To  every  dispensation  of  God  I  am  re- 
signed, my  Edwin.  While  I  bow  to  this  stroke,  I  ac- 
knowledge the  blessing  1  still  hold  in  you  and  Murray. 
But,  did  we  not  feel  these  visitations  from  our  Maker, 
they  v/ould  not  be  decreed  us.  To  bcliold  the  deail,  is 
the  penalty  of  man  for  sin ;  for  more  pain  is  it  to  Avit- 
ness  and  to  occasion  death,  than  for  ourselves  to  die.  I': 
is  also  a  lesson  which  Cxod  teaches  his  sons;  and  in  the 
moment  that  he  shews  us  death,  he  convinces  us  of  im 
mortality.  Look  on  that  face,  Edwin  1"  continued  he. 
turning  his  eyes  on  the  breathless  clay.  His  youthfw] 
auditor,  awe-struck,  and  with  the  tears  which  were  fiow 
ing  from  his  eyes,  checked  by  the  solemnity  of  this  ad  ■ 
•dress,  looked  as  he  directed  him  ;  "  Doth  not  that  inan- 
imate mould  of  earth  testify  that  nothing  less  than  an 
immortal  spirit  could  have  lit  up  its  marble  substance 
to  the  life  and  godlike  actions  -vye  h^\t  seen  it  perform  V 


J 12  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

"Edwin  shiuldered ;  and  Wallace,  letting  the  shroud  tali 
over  the  face,  said,  "  Never  more  will  I  look  at  it;  for 
A  no  longer  wears  the  characters  of  my  friend :  they 
*re  pictured  on  my  soul.  And  himself,  my  Edwin,  still 
effulgent  in  beauty,  and  glowing  with  life,  looks  down 
on  us  from  heaven  1"  He  rose  as  he  spoke,  and  open- 
ing the  door,  the  monks  re-entered  ;  and  placing  them- 
selves at  the  head  of  the  bier,  chanted  forth  the  vesper 
requiem.  When  it  was  ended,  Wallace  kissed  the 
-licilix  they  laid  on  his  friend's  breast,  and  left  the  cjell. 


CHAP.  XL 

Mo  eye  closed  that  night  in  the  monastery  of  Fal« 
kirk.  The  Earl  of  Mar,  who  awaked  about  the  twelfth 
hour,  sent  to  call  Lord  Ruthven,  Sir  William  Wallace, 
and  his  nephews,  to  attend  him.  As  they  approached^ 
the  priests,  who  had  just  anointed  his  dying  head  with 
,he  sacred  unction,  drew  back.  The  Countess  and 
Lady  Ruthven  supported  his  pillov/.  He  smiled  as  he 
iveard  the  advancing  steps  of  those  so  dear  to  him.  "  I 
send  for  you,"  said  he,  "  to  give  ycKi  the  blessing  of  a 
*rue  Scot  and  a  christian  !  May  all  who  are  here  in 
ihy  blessed  presence.  Father  of  Righteousness,"  cried 
he,  looking  up  with  a  supernatural  brightness  in  his 
eye ;  "  die  as  I  do,  rather  than  live  to  see  Scotland  en- 
slaved !  But  rather  may  they  live  under  that  liberty, 
nerpetua.ted,  which  Wallace  has  again  given  to  his  coun- 
try:  peaceful  will  then  be  their  last  moments  on  earth, 
and  full  of  joy  their  entrance  into  heaven  I"  Hi»  eyes 
dosed  as  the  concluding  word  died  upon  his  tongue. 
Lady  Ruthven  looked  intently  on  him :  s-he  bent  her 
face  to  feel  if  he  breathed ;  and  then  starting,  with  a 
feeble  cry,  fell  back  in  a  swoon. 

The  soul  of  the  veteran  Earl  was  indeed  fled.  The 
Countess  was  taken  shrieking  out  of  the  apartment: 
bu,t  Wallace,  Edwin,  and  Murray,  remained  kneeling 
around  the  corse.  Anthems  for  the  departed  were  now 
raised  over  the  body  ;  and  the  priests  throwing  over  it 
a  cloud  of  incense,  the  mourners  withdrew,  and  separa- 
ted to  their  chambers. 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  113 

By  day-break  next  morning*,  Wallace,  who  had  never 
•>lcpt,  met  Murray  by  appointment  in  the  cloisters.  The 
remains  of  his  beloved  lather  had  been  discovered  at 
Dunipacis  by  the  detachment  sent  out  by  the  dying-  Mar 
to  bring  in  the  wounded:  and  being  carried  to  the  con- 
vent, Murray  now  prepared  to  take  them  to  Bothwell 
Castle,  there  to  be  interred  in  the  cemetery  of  his  an- 
c«stors.  Wallace  who  had  approved  his  design,  enter- 
ed with  him  into  the  solitary  court-yard  where  the  w^ar- 
carriage  stood  which  was  to  convey  the  deceased  Earl 
to  Clydesdale.  A  party  of  his  men  brought  the  sacred 
corse  of  their  lord  from  his  cell,  and  laid  him  on  his 
martial  bier.  His  bed  was  the  sweet  heather  of  Fal- 
kirk, spread  on  the  rugged  couch  by  the  hands  of  his 
son.  As  Wallace  laid  the  venerable  chieftain's  sword 
and  helmet  on  his  bier,  he  covered  the  whole  with  a  flag 
which  he  had  taken  from  the  standard  of  England^ 
seized  in  the  last  victory.  "  Only  this  shroud  is  worthy 
of  thy  virtues !"  cried  he,  "  dying  for  Scotland,  thus 
let  the  memorial  of  her  glory,  be  the  witness  of  thine  T' 
*'  Oh  !  my  friend,"  answered  Murray,  looking  on  him 
with  a  smile,  which  beamed  the  fairer,  shining  through 
sorrov/,  "  thy  gracious  spirit  can  divest  even  death  of 
its  gloom  ! — 'My  father  yet  lives  in  his  fame  1" 

The  solemn  procession,  v/ith  Murray  at  its  head, 
moved  away  towards  the  heights  of  Clydesdale  ;  and 
Wallace  returned  to  his  chamber.  Two  hours  before 
noon,  he  was  summoned  to  the  chapel  of  the  monaste- 
ry to  see  the  Earl  of  Bute,  and  his  dearer  friend,  laid 
in  their  tombs--  With  a  spirit  that  did  not  murmur,  he 
saw  the  earth  closed  over  both  graves  :  but  at  Gra- 
ham's he  lingered  ;  and  when  the  large  funeral  stone 
shut  even  the  sod  that  covered  him  from  his  eyes, — with 
his  sword's  point  he  drew  on  the  surface  these  me- 
morable words  : 

"  Mente  manuque  potens,  et  Walli  fidus  Achates, 
Conditus  hie  Gramus,  hello  interfectus  ah  Anglis."(s) 

While  he  yet  leaned  on  the  stone  which  gently  gave 
Vr  ay  to  the  registering  pen  of  friendship,  a  monk  ap- 
m'oached  him  attended  by  a  Scottish  youth.     Wallace 
.      k2 


114  THE  SCOTTISH  QlfiEFS. 

turned  round  at  the  sound  of  their  steps.  "This 
«  young  man,"  said  the  father,  "  brings  dispatches  to 
tlie  Lord  Regent."  Wallace  rose  ;  arid  the  youth  bow- 
ing, presented  to  him  a  packet. — Approaching  the 
light,  he  broke  the  seal,  arid  read  to  this  effect  : 

"  The  messenger  who  takes  this  is  a  simple  border 
shepherd  ;  he  knows  not  who  gave  him  the  packet ; 
neither  is  he  acquainted  that  it  is  of  farther  importance 
than  to  solicit  your  exertions  for  the  exchange  of  priso- 
ners in  the  hands  of  the  Southrons  :  therefore,  when 
you  have  read  it,  dismiss  him  with  what  reward  you 
please  ;  but  he  can  bring  me  no  answer. 

"  My  father  and  myself  are  in  the  castle  of  Durham, 
and  both  under  an  arrest ;  in  which  situation  we  shall 
remain  till  our  arrival  in  London  renders  its  sovereign 
in  opinion  more  secure.  You  are  not  less  his  priso- 
ner than  ourselves,  though  his  conqueror,  and  appar- 
ently free.  The  gold  of  Edward  has  found  its  way  in- 
to the  hearts  of  your  councils.  Beware  of  them  who 
with  patriotism  in  their  mouths,  are  purchased  to  be- 
tray you  and  their  country  into  the  hands  of  your  ene- 
my 1  True&t,  noblest,  best  of  Scots,  farewell !  I  must 
not  write  I'fiore  explicitly." 

Wallace  closed  the  packet  ;  and  putting  his  purse 
into  the  siiepherd's  hand,  left  the  chapel.  Ruthven 
met  him  in  the  cloisters.  He  had  just  returned  from 
Stirling,  whither  he  had  gone  early  in  the  morning  to 
inform  the  lords  there  of  the  arrival  of  the  Regent. 
^'  When  I  summoned  them  to  the  council-hall,*'  said 
Ruthven,  "  and  informed  them  that  you  had  not  only 
defeated  Edward  on  the  Carron  but  had  driven  him 
over  the  borders,  and  so  had  gained  a  double  victory 
over  a  foreign  usurper  and  domestic  traitors  ;  instead 
of  the  usual  gratulations  at  such  tidings,  a  low  whis- 
per murmured  through  the  hall ;  and  the  young  Bade- 
noch  rising  from  his  seat,  gave  utterance  to  so  many 
invectives  against  the  assassin  of  his  father,  as  he  chose 
to  call  you,  that  I  should  deem  it  treason  to  your  sa- 
cred person  even  to  repeat  them.  But,  suffice  it  to  say, 
that  out  of  above  five  hundred  chieftains  who  were  pres- 
ent, not  one  of  those  parasites  who  used  to  fawn  on  you  a 
week  ago,  and  make   the  love  of  iionest  men   seem 


THJE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS,  i  15 

doubtfal,  now  breathes  one  word  for  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace. But  this  ingratitude,  vile  as  it  was,  I  bore  with  pa- 
tience, till  Badenoch,  growing  ininsolency  declared  that 
late  last  night,  Sir  Alexander  Ramsay  had  arrived  with 
dispatches  from  the  King  of  France  to  the  Regent  ; 
and  that  he,  assuming  to  himself,  in  right  of  his  birth, 
that  dignity,  had  put  Sir  Alexander  under  confine- 
ment in  the  Keep,  for  having  dared  to  dispute  his  au- 
thority and  determination  to  withhold  them  altogether 
from  your  view.*' 

"  I  will  release  Ramsay  ;"  replied  Wallace,  "  and 
meet  these  violent  men.  But  it  must  be  alone,  my 
dear  lord  ;"  continued  he, "  you  and  my  chieftains  may 
wait  my  return  at  the  city  gates  ;  but  the  sword  of  Ed- 
ward, if  need  be,  shall  defend  me  against  his  gold." — 
As  he  spoke  he  laid  his  hand  on  the  jewelled  weapon 
which  hung  at  his  side,  and  which  he  had  wrested  from 
that  monarch  in  the  last  conflict. 

Aware  that  this  treason  aimed  at  him,  would  strike 
his  country,  unless  timely  warded  off,  he  took  his  reso- 
lution ;  and  requesting  Ruthven  not  to  communicate 
to  any  one  what  had  passed,  he  mounted  his  horse, 
and  struck  into  the  road  to  Stirling.  He  took  the 
plume  from  his  crest,  and  closing  his  visor,  enveloped 
himself  in  his  plaid,  that  as  he  went  along  the  people 
might  not  know  him.  But  at  the  door  of  the  Keep, 
«r^sting  away  his  cloak,  and  unclasping  his  helmet,  he 
entered  the  council-hall  openly  and  abruptly.  By  an 
instantaneous  impulse  of  respect,  which  even  the  base 
pay  to  virtue, almost  every  man  arose  at  his  appearance. 
He  bowed  to  the  assembly,  and  walked  with  a  compos- 
ed but  severe  air  up  to  his  station,  as  Regent,  at  the 
head  of  the  room.  Young  Badenoch  stood  there  ;  and 
as  Wallace  approached,  he  fiercely  grasped  his  sword, 
and  said, — "  Proud  upstart !  Betrayer  of  my  father!  set 
a  foot  further  towards  this  chair,  and  the  chastise- 
ment of  every  arm  in  this  council  shall  fail  on  you  for 
your  presumption  1'^ 

"  It  is  not  in  the  arms  of  thousands  to  put  me  from 
my  right,'*  replied  Wallace,  calmly  putting  forth  his 
hand,  and  drawing  the  Regent's  chair  towards  him. 

^'  Will  ye  bear  this  ?"  cried  Badenoch,  stamping  with 


1 16  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEl^S. 

his  foot,  and  dashing  out  his  sword  ;  "  is  the  man  lo 
exist  who  thus  braves  the  assembled  lords  of  Scothmd?" 
As  he  spoke,  he  made  a  desperate  lunge  at  him  :  Wal- 
lace caught  the  blade  in  his  hands,  and  wrenching  it 
from  his  intemperate  adversary,  broke  it  into  shivers, 
and  cast  the  pieces  down  at  his  feet ;  then  turning  reso- 
lutely towards  the  chieftains,  who  stood  looking  appalled 
on  each  other,  he  said,  "  I,  your  duly  elected  Regent,left 
you  only  a  few  days  ago,  to  repel  the  enemy,  whom  the 
treason  of  Lord  March  would  have  introduced  to  these 
very  walls.  Many  brave  chieftains  followed  me  :  and 
n>ore,  whom  I  see  now,  loa.ded  me,  as  I  passed  from 
the  gates,  with  benedictions.  The  late  lord  Badenoch 
stood  his  ground  like  a  true  Scot  ;  but  Athol  and  Bu- 
chan  deserted  to  Edward.  Young  lord,"  said  he,  ad- 
dressing the  furious  Badenoch,  who  stood  gnashing  his- 
teeth  in  impotent  rage,  and  listening  to  the  inflaming 
whispers  of  Macdougal  of  Lorn  ;  "  from  their  treachery 
date  the  fall  of  your  brave  father,  and  the  whole  of 
our  grievous  loss  of  that  day.  Bat  the  deaths  of  all  I 
have  avenged  :  more  than  chief  for  chief  have  perish- 
ed in  the  Southron  ranks,  and  thousands  of  the  meaner 
sort  now  swell  the  banks  of  Carron.  Edward  himself 
fell  wounded  beneath  niy  arm  ;  and  was  taken  by  his  liy- 
ing  squadrons,  far  over  the  wastes  of  Northumberland. 
Thus  then  have  I  returned  to  you,  with  my  duties 
achieved  in  a  manner  worthy  of  your  Regent  ! — And 
what  means  the  arrest  of  my  embassador?  what  this  si- 
lence, when  the  representative  of  your  pov*'er  is  thus 
insulted  to  your  face  ?" 

"They  mean,"  cried  Badenoch,  "that  my  words 
are  the  utterance  of  their  sentiments." — "  they  mean," 
cried  Lorn,  "  that  the  prowess  of  the  haughty  boaster, 
whom  their  intoxicated  gratitude  has  raised  from  the 
dust,  shall  not  avail  him  against  the  indignation  of  a  na- 
tion over  which  he  dares  to  arrogate  a  right.  | 

"  Mean  they  what  they  will ;"  returned  Wallace^ 
"  they  cannot  dispossess  me  of  the  rights  with  which 
the  assembled  kingdom  of  Scotland  invested  me  on  the 
plains  of  Stirling. — And  again  1  demand,  by  what  au- 
thority do  you  and  they  presume  to  imprison  ray  off- 


THE  SCOTTISH    CHIEFS.  llY 

cer,  and  withhold  from  me  the  papers  sent  by  king 
Philip  to  the  Regent  of  Scotland  ?'* 

"  By  an  authority  that  we  will  maintain  ;"  replied  Ba- 
clenoch;  "by  the  right  of  my  royal  blood  ;  and  by  the 
sword  of  every  brave  Scot  who  spurns  at  the  name  of 

William  Wallace  !" "  And  as  a  proof  that  we  speak 

not  more  than  we  will  act,"  cried  Lorn,  making  a  sign 
to  some  of  the  boldest  chieftains;  "  your  are  our  pri- 
soner!" Several  weapons  were  unsheathed  at  that 
moment,  and  their  bearers  hurried  towards  the  side  of 
Badenoch  and  Lorn,  who  attempted  to  lay  hands  on 
Wallace  ;  but  he,  drawing  the  broad  sword  of  Edward, 
with  a  sweep  of  his  valiant  arm,  which  made  the  glitter- 
ing blade  seem  a  brand  of  fire,  he  set  his  back  against 
the  v/all,  and  exclaimed — "  He  that  first  makes  a  stroke 
at  me  shall  find  his  death  on  this  Southron  steel  1 — 
This  sword  I  made  the  puissant  arm  of  Edward  yield 
to  me ;  and  this  sword  shall  defend  the  Regent  of 
Scotland  against  his  ungrateful  countrymen  1" 

The  chieftains  who  pressed  on  him,  recoiled  at  thes6 
words;  but  their  leaders,  Badenoch  and  Lorn,  waved 
them  forward  with  vehement  exhortations  : — "  Desist, 
young  men!"  continued  he,  "  and  provoke  me  not  be- 
yond my  bearing.  In  one  moment,  with  a  single  blast 
of  my  bugle,  I  could  surround  this  building  with  a  band 
of  warriors,  who,  at  the  first  sight  of  their  chief  being 
thus  assaulted,  v/ould  lay  you  a  breathless  corpse  at 
their  feet. — Let  me  pass,  then,  or  abide  the  conse- 
quence !" 

"Through  my  breast  you  must  mr.ke  your  way ;" 
exclaimed  Badenoch,  "  for  with  my  consent  you  pass 
not  here  but  upon  your  bier.  What  is  in  the  arm  of  a 
single  man,"  cried  he  to  the  lords,  "  that  ye  cannot 
fall  on  him  at  once,  and  cut  him  down." 

"  I  would  not  hurt  the  son  of  the  virtuous  Badenoch ;" 
returned  Wallace,  "but  his  life  be  on  your  heads," 
said  he,  turning  to  the  chieftains,  "  if  one  of  you  point 

a  sword  to  impede  my  passage." "  And  wilt  thou 

dare  it?  usurper  of  my  power  and  honours  1"  cried 
Badenoch,  "  Lorn,  stand  by  your  friend  : — all  here  who 
are  true  to  the  Cummin  and  Macdougal,  hem  in  the 
tyraut." 


118  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Many  a  traitor  hand  now  drew  forth  its  dagger  ;  and 
the  intemperate  Badenoch,  drunk  with  choler  and  mad 
ambition,  made  aiiother  violent  plunge  at  Wallace  with 
a  sword  he  had  snatched  from  one  of  his  accomplices: 
But  its  metal,  less  approved  than  that  which  Wallace 
held,  flew  in  splinters  on  the  guar^  stroke  of  the  Re- 
gent, and  left  Badenoch  at  his  mercy.  "  Defend  me, 
chieftains,  or  I  am  slain  !''  cried  he.  But  Wallace  did 
not  let  his  hand  follow  its  advantage :  with  the  dignity 
of  his  own  conscious  desert  he  turned  away,  and  ex- 
claimed while  he  threw  the  enraged  Lorn  from  him— 
"  That  arm  will  wither  which  dares  to  point  its  steel  at' 
me." — The  pressing  crovvd,  struck  in  astonishment, 
parted  before  him  as  they  would  have  done  in  the  path 
of  a  thunderbolt,  and,  unimpeded,  he  passed  to  the 
door. 

That  their  Regent  had  entered  the  Keep,  was  soon 
rumoured  through  the  city ;  and  when  he  appeared 
from  the  gate,  he  was  hailed  by  the  acclamations  of  the 
people.  Again  he  found  his  empire  in  the  hearts  of 
the  lowiy:  they  whom  he  had  restored  to  their  cotta- 
ges, knelt  to  him  in  the  streets,  and  called  for  blessings 
on  his  name  ;  while  they, — Oh  !  blasting  touch  of  en- 
vy ! — whom  he  had  restored  to  castles,  and  had  elevated 
from  a  state  of  vassalage  to  the  power  of  princes,  raised 
against  him  that  very  power,  to  lay  him  in  the  dust. 

Now  it  was,  that  when  suvrounded  by  the  grateful 
citizens  of  Stirling,  whom  it  v/ould  have  been  as  easy 
for  him  to  have  inflamed  to  the  massacre  of  Badenoch 
and  his  council,  as  to  have  lifted  his  bugle  to  his  lips, 
— that  he  blew  the  summons  for  his  chieftains.  Every 
!nan  in  the  Keep  now  Hew  to  arms,  expecting  that  W^al- 
lace  was  returning  upon  them  with  the  host  he  threat- 
ened. In  a  few  minutes  the  Lord  Ruthven  with  his 
brave  follov/ers  entered  the  inner  ballium  gate.  Wal- 
lace smiled  proudly  as  they  drew  near. — '» My  lords,'* 
said  he,  "  you  come  to  witness  the  last  act  of  my  dele- 
gated power!  Sir  Alexander.Scrymgeour,  enter  into 
that  hail,  which  was  once  the  scat  of  council,  and  tell 
the  violent  men  who  fill  it,  that  for  the  sake  of  the  peace 
«f  Scotland,  which  I  value  more  than  my  life,  I  allow 
thcRi  to  stand  urtt>unishcd  of  the  offence  asrainst  me. 


THE^SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  119 

But  the  outrage  they  have  committed  on  the  freedom 
of  one  of  her  bravest  sons,  I  will  not  pardon,  unless  he 
be  immediately  set  at  liberty:  let  them  deliver  to  you 
Sir  Alexander  Ramsay,  and  then  I  permit  them  to  hear 
my  final  decision.  If  they  refuse  obedience,  they  are 
all  my  prisoners,  and  but  for  my  pity  for  their  blindness, 
should  perish  by  the  laws." 

Scrymgeour,  eager  to  open  tlie  prison  doors  of  his 
friend  Ramsay,  and  little  suspecting  to  what  he  was 
calling  the  insurgents,  hastened  to  obey.  Lorn  and 
Badenoch  gave  him  a  very  rough  reception  ;  and  utter- 
ed such  a  rebellious  defiance  of  the  Regent  and  his 
power,  that  the  brave  standard-bearer  lost  all  patience, 
and  denounced  the  immediate  deaths  of  the  whole  re- 
fractory assembly.  "  The  court-yard,"  cried  he,  "  is 
armed  with  thousands  of  the  Regent's  followers ;  his 
foot  therefore  is  on  your  necks  ;  obey,  or  this  will  be  a 
more  grievous  day  for  Scotland  than  that  of  Falkirk, 
for  the  Castle  of  Stirling  will  run  with  Scottish  blood  1" 
Badenoch  only  became  more  enraged  at  this  menace  ; 
and  Scrymgeour  sending  a  messenger  privately  to  tell 
the  result  to  Wallace.  The  Regent  placed  himself  at 
the  head  of  twenty  men,  and  re-entering  the  Keep, 
made  direct  to  the  warder,  and  ordering  him  on  pain  of 
death  to  deliver  to  him  Sir  Alexander  Ramsay ;  he  was 
obeyed,  and  Wallace,  with  his  recovered  chieftain,  re- 
turned to  the  platform.  Scrymgeour  soon  being  appriz- 
ed that  the  knight  was  at  liberty,  turned  to  Badenoch, 
with  whom  he  was  still  contending  in  furious  argument ; 
and  said — "  Will  you,  or  will  you  not  attend  me  to 
the  Regent  to  hear  your  hnal  sentence  ?  He  of  you  all," 
added  he,  addressing  the  chieftains,  "  vA^o  in  this  sim- 
ple duty  disobeys,  will  receive  the  severer  doom." 

Badenoch  and  Lorn  both  affected  to  laugh  at  this 
menace,  and  replied,  that  they  would  not  for  an  empire 
do  the  usurper  the  homage  of  a  moment's  voluntary 
attention,  but  if  any  of  their  followers  choose  to  view 
the  mockery,  they  were 'at  liberty.  A  very  few,  and 
those  of  the  least  turbulent  spirits,  ventured  forth  :  they 
began  to  fear  that  they  had  embarked  in  a  desperate 
caysej  and  by  their  acquiescence,  they  were  willing  to 


UO  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

deprecate  the  wrath  of  Wallace,  while  they  should  es.- 
cape  exciting  the  resentment  of  Badenoch. 

When  Wallace  looked  around  him,  and  saw  the  plain 
before  the  Keep,  to  the  ballium  wall,  filled  with  armed 
men  and  citizens,  he  mounted  an  elevated  piece  of 
ground  which  rose  a  little  to  the  left,  and  waving  his 
hand  in  token  that  he  intended  to  speak,  a  profound  si- 
lence to0k  place  of  the  buzz  of  admiration  and  grati- 
tude. He  then  addressed  the  people  by  the  names  of 
"  Brother  soldiers  !  Friends  !  And  am  1  so  to  distin- 
guish Scots  ?  Enemies  !"  At  this  word,  a  loud  cry  of 
,"  Perish  all  who  are  the  enemies  of  our  glorious  Re- 
gent !*'  shook  the  foundation  of  the  Keep  to  its  centre. 

Badenoch,  believing  that  the  few  of  his  partisans  who 
had  ventured  out,  were  falling  under  the  vengeance 
of  Wallace,  with  a  brandished  weapon,  and  followed  by 
the  rest,  sallied  towards  the  door:  but  there  he  stop- 
ped, for  he  saw  his  friends  standing  unmolested. 

Wallace  proceeded,  and  narrated  the  hatred  that  was 
now  poured  upon  him  by  a  large  part  of  that  nobility 
which  had  been  socager  to  invest  him  with  the  dignity 
he  then  held; — "Though  they  have  broken  their  oaths," 
cried  he,  "I  have  fulfilled  mine!  They  vowed  to  me 
all  lawful  obedience  :  I  swore  to  free  Scotland  or  to  die. 
God  has  enabled  me  so  to  do.  Every  castle  in  this 
kingdom  is  restored  to  its  ancient  lord  :  every  fortress 
is  filled  with  a  native  garrison  :  the  sea  is  covered  with 
our  ships  :  and  the  kingdom,  one  in  itself,  sits  secure 
behind  her  well  defended  bulwarks.  Such  have  I, 
through  the  strength  of  the  Almi.^hty-arm,  made  Scot- 
land ! — Beloved  by  a  grateful  people,  I  could  wield 
half  her  power  to  the  destruction  of  the  rest,  but  I 
would  not  pluck  one  stone  out  of  the  building  I  have 
raised.  To-day  I  deliver  up  my  commission,  since  its 
design  is  accomplished.  I  resign  the  regency.'*  As 
ht  spoke  he  took  off  his  helmet,  and  stood  uncovered 
before  the  people. 

"  No,  no !"  resounded  from  every  lip,  "  be  our 
prince  and  king  1  We  will  acknowledge  no  other  pow- 
er, we  will  obey  no  other  leader !" 

Wallace  expressed  his  sense  of  their  attachment, 
but  repeating  to  them  that  he  had  fulfilled  the  end  of 


TkE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  121 

his  office  by  setting  them  free,  he  explained  that  his 
retaining  it  was  no  longel'  necessary. — "  Should  I  re- 
main your  Regent,"  continued  he,  "  the  country  would 
be  involved  in  ruinous  dissentions.  The  majority  of 
your  nobles  find  a  vice  in  the  virtue  they  once  extol  < 
led  ;  and  seeing  its  power  no  longer  needful,  even  now 
seek  to  destroy  my  upholders  with  myself  I  there- 
fore remove  the  cause  of  contention.  I  quit  the  re- 
gency, and  I  bequeath  your  liberty  to  the  Ci'  of  your 
chieftains.  But  should  it  be  again  in  dan^^.r,  remem- 
ber, that  while  life  breathes  in  this  heart,  the  spirit  of 
Wallace  will  be  with  you  still  1" 

With  these  words,  he  descended  the  mound,  and 
mounted  his  horse  amidst  the  cries  and  tears  of  the 
populace. — They  clung  to  his  garments  as  he  rode 
along;  and  the  women,  with  their  children  in  their 
arms,  throwing  themselves  on  their  knees  in  his  path, 
implored  him  not  to  leave  them  to  the  ini-oads  of  a  ra- 
vager ;  or  to  the  tyranny  of  their  own  lords,  who  un- 
restrained by  a  king  or  a  regent  like  himself,  would 
soon  subvert  his  good  laws,  and  reign  despots  over 
every  district  in  the  country.  Wallace  replied  to  their 
entreaties  with  the  language  of  encouragement;  and 
adding,  that  he  was  not  their  prince,  to  lawfully  main- 
tain a  disputed  power  over  the  legitimate  chieftains  of 
the  land,  he  said,  "  but  a  rightful  sovereign  may  yet 
be  yielded  to  your  prayers ;  and  to  procure  that  bles- 
sing, daughters  of  Scotland,  night  and  day  invoke  the 
giver  of  every  good  and  perfect  gift." 

When  Wallace  and  his  weeping  train  stopped  to  se- 
parate at  the  foot  of  Falkirk  Hill,  he  was  met  by  Ker 
and  his  brave  Lanarkers,  who,  having  heard  of  what  had 
passed  in  the  citadel,  advanced  towards  him  to  declare 
with  one  voice,  that  they  never  would  fight  under  any 
other  commander.  "  Wherever  you  are,'*  returned 
Wallace,  "  my  faith Tul  friends,  you  shall  still  obey  my 
word.'*  This  assurance  quieted  their  fears  that  he 
was  going  to  consign  them  over  to  the  turbulent  lowls 
in  the  castle.  But  when  he  entered  the  monastery,  the 
opposition  that  was  made  to  his  resignation  of  the  re- 
gency, by  the  Bishop  of  Dunkeld,  Loch-awe,  and  oth- 
ers, was   so  vehement,   so  persuasive,   that  had  not 

VOL.  TI,  T, 


122  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Wallace  been  steadily  principled  not  to  involve  his 
country  in  domestic  war,  he  must  have  yielded,  if  not 
to  their  reasoning,  to  the  affectionate  eloquence  of  their 
pleading.  But  seeing  the  public  danger  attendant  on 
his  provoking  the  wild  ambition  of  the  Cummins  and 
their  clamorous  adherents;  with  arguments,  which 
their  sober  judgment  saw  conclusive,  he  at  last  ended 
the  debate,  saying  "  I  have  yet  to  perform  my  vow  to 
our  lamented  friend.  I  shall  seek  his  daughter,  and 
then,  my  brave  companions,  you  shall  hear  of  me  and 
see  me  aerain  I" 


CHAP.  XII. 

It  being  Lady  Ruth  ven's  wish  that  the  remains  of  her 
brother  should  be  entombed  with  his  ancestors,  prepa- 
rations were  made  for  the  mournful  cavalcade  to  set 
forth  the  next  morning  tov/ards  Braemar  Castle.  The 
Countess,  supposing  that  Wallace  would  accompany 
.them,  did  not  object  to  this  proposal,  which  Lady 
Ruthven  enforced  with  Roods  of  tears.  Had  any  one 
seen  the  two,  and  been  called  upon  to  judge  by  their 
deportment,  of  the  relationship  in  which  each  lady 
stood  to  the  deceased,  he  must  have  decided  that  the 
sister  was  the  widow.  Lr.dy  Mar,  at  the  moment  of 
her  hvisband's  death,  had  felt  a  shock,  but  it  was  not 
that  of  sorrow  for  her  loss  :  she  had  long  looked  for- 
Tivard  to  this  event,  as  to  the  seal  of  her  happiness:  it 
was  the  sight  of  mortality  that  appalled  her.  The 
man  she  now  doted  on,  nay,  even  herself,  would  one 
day  lie  as  he — dead  !  iniiensible  to  all  earthly  joys  or 
pains !  but  awake,  perlmps  fearfully  awake,  to  the 
judgments  of  another  world !  This  conviction  caused 
her  shrieks  when  she  saw  him  expire.  But  the  im- 
pression was  evanescent.  Every  obstacle  between  her 
and  Wallace,  she  now  believed  removed  Her  hus- 
band was  dead :  Helen  was  carried  away  by  a  man  de- 
votedly enamoured  of  her,  and  most  probably  was  at 
that  time  his  wife.  The  spectres  of  conscience  pas- 
sed from  her  eyes,  she  no  longer  thought  of  death 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  123 

and  judgment ;  and  entirely  estranging  herself  from  the 
bier  of  her  husband,  under  an  excuse  that  her  feelings 
could  not  bear  the  sight,  she  determined  to  seclude 
herself  in  iier  own  chamber  for  a  day  or  two,  till  the 
freshness  of  Wallace's  grief  for  his  friend  should  also 
pass  away.  But  when  she  heard  from  the  indignant 
Edwin,  of  the  rebellious  conduct  of  her  kinsman,  the 
young  Lord  Badonoch,  and  that  the  consequence  was, 
the  Regent's  abdication  of  his  dignity,  her  consterna- 
tion superseded  all  caution,  and  rising  from  her  chair 
in  a  horror  of  disappointment,  she  comman^'ed  Edwin 
to  send  Wallace  to  her.  "  I  will  soon  humble  this 
proud  boy  \"  exclaimed  she  "  and  let  him  know,  that 
in  opposing  the  elevation  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  he 
treads  down  his  own  interest.  You  are  beloved  by  the 
Regent,  Edwin  1"  cried  she,  interrupting  herself,  and 
turning  to  him  with  one  of  her  most  persuasive  looks, 
*'  teach  his  enthusiastic  heart  the  true  interests  of  his 
country! — I  am  the  first  woman  of  the  blood  of  Cum- 
min; and  is  not  that  faiiiily  the  most^^^  powerful  in  the 
kingdom?  By  the  adherence  of  one  branch  to  Edward, 
the  battle  of  Falkirk  was  lost;  by  the  rebellion  of  an- 
other, the  Regent  of  Scotland  is  obliged  to  relinquish 
that  dignity !  It  is  in  my  power,  at  any  moment,  to 
move  the  whole  race  to  my  will :  and  if  Wallace  would 
mingle  his  blood  with  theirs,  would  espouse  me,  (an 
overture  which  the  love  I  bear  my  country  impells  me 
to  make,)  every  nerve  would  tlien  be  strained  to  pro- 
mote the  elevation  of  their  nearest  kinswoman — Wal- 
lace would  reign  in  Scotland,  and  the  whole  land  lie 
at  peace." 

Edwin  eyed  her  with  as-tonishment  as  she  spoke. 
All  her  late  conduct  to  his  cousin  Helen,  to  his  uncle, 
and  to  Wallace,  was  now  explained;  and  he  saw  in 
her  flushed  cheek,  that  it  was  not  the  patriot  who  de- 
sired this  match,  but  the  enamoured  woman. 

"  You  do  not  answer  me  ?"  said  s^iie,  "  Have  you  any 
apprehension  that  Sir  William  Wallace  would  reject 
the  hand  that  would  give  him  a  crown  ?  that  would  dis- 
pense happiness  to  so  many  thousand  people  ?"  "  No;" 
replied  he, "  I  believe,  that  much  as  he  is  devoted  to 
the  memory  of  her  whom  alone  he  can  ever  love  ;  could 
he  purchase  true  happiness  to  Scotland  by  the  sacrifice, 


i24  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

he  would  marry  any  honest  woman  Avho  could  bring  hiiii 
so  blest  a  dowry.  But  in  your  case,  my  dear  aunt,  I  can 
see  no  probability  of  such  a  consequence.  In  the  first 
place,  I  know  that  now  the  virtuous  Earl  of  Badenoch 
is  no  more,  he  neither  respects  nor  fe.a*s  the  Cumminsj 
and  that  he  would  scorn  even  to  purchase  a  crown,  or 
the  people's  happiness,  by  any  baseness  in  himself.  To 
rise  by  their  means  who  will  at  any  time  immolate  all 
'hat  is  sacred  to  man,  to  their  caprices  and  fancied  i:-- 
r crests,  v/ould  be  unworthy  of  him ;  therefore  I  am 
sure,  that  if  you  wish  to  marry  Sir  "SVilliam  Wallace, 
you  must  not  urge  the  use  he  can  make  of  the  Cummins, 
as  an  argument.  He  need  not  stoop  to  cajole  the  men 
he  can  command.  Did  he  not  drive  the  one  half  of  theii? 
-Ian,  with  the  English  host,  to  seek  a  shelter  from  his 
vengeance  ?  And  for  them  in  the  citadel ;  had  he  cho- 
sen to  give  the  word,  they  would  now  be  all  numbered 
with  the  dust !  He  lays  down  his  power,  lady ;  it  is  not 
taken  from  him.  Earthly  crowns  are  dross  to  him  who 
looks  for  a  heavenly  one.  Therefore,  dear  aunt,  I  may 
iiopethat  you  now  think  it  no  longer  necessary  to  wound 
your  delicacy  by  offering  him  a  hand  which  cannot  pro- 
duce the  good  you  meditate  1" 

The  complexion  of  the  Countess  varied  a  thousand 
dmes  during  this  answer: — her  reason  assented  to 
many  parts  of  it;  but  the  passion  she  could  not  ac- 
knowledge to  her  nephew,  urged  her  to  persist.  "  You 
may  be  right,  my  dear  Edwin  :"  replied  she,  "  but  still, 
as  there  is  nothing  very  repugnant  in  m,e,  the  pro- 
ject is  surely  worth  trying !  At  any  rate,  a  marriage 
with  me  would,  by  allying  your  noble  friend  to  every 
illustrious  house  in  the  kingdom,  make  his  interest 
theirs;  and  though  he  disclaims  a  higher  honour,  yet 
they  would  all  unite  to  maintain  him  in  the  regency.  In 
short,  I  am  certain  that  Scotland  will  be  wrecked  when 
he  leaves  the  helm.  And  also,  as  you  love  your  friend; 
though  your  young  heart  is  yet  unacquainted  with  the 
strange  inconsistencies  of  the  tenderer  passion ;  allow 
me  to  whisper  to  you,  that  your  friend  will  never  be 
happy  till  he  again  lives  in  the  bosom  of  domestic  affec- 
tion.'*  "  Ah  I  but  where  is  he  to  find  it  ?" — cried  Ed- 
win ;  "what  wall  ever  restore  his  Marion  to  his  arms  T' 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  126 

"  I/' cried  she,"  I  will  be  more  than  ever  Marion 

was  to  him ;  for  she  knew  not,  O  !  she  could  not,  the 
boundless  love  that  fills  my  heart  for  him  1'*  Edwin's 
blushes  at  this  wild  declaration,  told  her  that  she  had 
betrayed  herself.  She  next  attempted  to  palliate  what 
she  would,  at  this  period,  have  wished  to  conceal;  and 
coverinjj  her  face  with  her  hand,  she  drew  several  heavy 
sighs,  and  then  said;"  You  who  love  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace, cannot  be  surprised  that  all  who  adore  human  ex- 
cellence, should  participate  the  sentiment.  How  could 
I  see  him,  the  benefactor  of  my  family,  the  blessing  to 

all  Scotland,  and  not  love  him  ?" "  True  ;"  replied 

Edwin,  *•'  but  not  as  a  wife  would  love  her  husband ! — > 
Were  you  not  married  ?  And  was  it  possible  for  you  to 
feel  thus  vrhen  my  good  uncle  lived  ?  So  strong  a  pas- 
sion cannot  have  grown  in  your  breast  since  he  died  -, 
for  love,  surely,  could  not  enter  the  lamenting  widow's 
heart  at  the  moment  when  her  husband  lay  an  unburied 

corse  before  her  I" "  Edwin  V  replied  she,   "  you 

who  never  felt  the  throbs  of  this  tyrant,  judge  with  a 
severity  you  will  one  day  regret :  when  you  love  your- 
self, and  strugg;le  with  a  passion  that  drinks  your  very- 
life,  you  will  pity  Joanna  of  Mar^  and  forgive  her  I" — — . 
"  I  pity  you  now,  aunt ;"  replied  he,  "but  you  bewil- 
der me. — I  cannot  understand  the  possibility  of  a  virtu- 
ous married  woman  suffering  any  passion  of  this'kind 
to  get  such  domination  over  her,  as  to  cause  her  one 
guilty  sigh.  For  guilty  must  every  wish  be  that  mili- 
tates against  the  honour  of  her  husband.  Surely  love 
comes  not  in  a  whirlwind  to  seize  the  soul  at  once;  but 
grows  by  degrees  according  to  the  developementof  the 
virtues  of  the  object,  and  in  consequence  of  the  reins 
we  give  ourselves  in  indulging  in  their  contemplation ; 
— and  if  it  be  virtue  that  you  love  in  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace,  had  you  not  virtues  amountmg  to  a  samt  in  your 
noble  husband  ?" 

The  Countess  perceived  by  the  remarks  of  Edwin 
that  he  was  deeper  read  in  the  human  heart  than  she 
had  suspected ;  that  he  was  neither  ignorant  of  the 
feelings  of  the  passion,  nor  of  what  ought  to  be  its 
source  ;  and  therefore,  with  a  deep  blush,  she  replied 
— "  Think  for  a  moment  before  you  condemn  me.     I 


126  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

acknowled.Q^e  every  virtue  that  your  uncle  possessed; 
but,  Oh  !  Edwin  I  he  had  frailties  that  you  know  not  of, 
frailties  that  reduced  me  to  be,  what  the  world  never 
saw,  the  most  unhappy  of  women." — Edwin  turned 
pale  at  this  chart^e  against  his  uncle,  which  she  enforc- 
ed with  tears ;  and  while  he  forbore  to  draw  aside  the  veil 
which  covered  the  sacred  dead,  by  inquiring  what  those 
frailties  were,  little  did  he  think  that  the  artful  woman 
meant  a  frailty  in  which  she  had  equally  shared,  and 
the  consequences  of  which  had  constrained  her  to  be- 
come his  wife.  She  proceeded  ;  '^  I  married  your  uncle 
when  I  was  a  girl,  and  knew  not  that  I  had  a  heart.  I 
then  saw  Wallace;  his  virtues  stole  me  from  myself; 

and  I  found In  short,  Edwin,  your  uncle  was  of  too 

advanced  an  age  to  sympathize  with  my  younger  heart. 
How  could  I  then  defend  myself  against  the  more  con- 
genial soul  of  your  friend  ? — He  was  cold  during  Mar's 
life ;  but  he  did  not  repulse  me  with  unkindness  ;  I 
therefore  hope;  and  do  you,  my  Edwin,  gently  influ- 
ence him  in  my  favour,  and  I  will  for  ever  bless  you !" 
— — "  Aunt,'^  answered  he,  looking  at  her  attentively  ; 
*•*  can  you*  without  displeasure,  hear  me  speak  a  few, 
perhaps  ungrateful  truths  r"  "  Say  what  you  will,'' 
said  she,  trembling ;  "  only  be  my  advocate  with  the 
^loblestof  human  beings,  and  nought  can  I  take  amiss." 
"  I  answer  you,  Lady  Mur,"  resumed  he,  "  with  un- 
qualified sincerity,  because  I  love  you,  and  venerate 
the  memory  of  my  uncle,  whose  frailties,  whatever 
^hey  might  be,  were  visible  to  you  alone.  I  answer  you 
vs'ith  sincerity,  because  I  would  spare  you  much  future 
pain,  and  Sir  William  Wallace  a  task  that  would  pierce 
him  to  the  soul.  And  as  I  know  his  heart,  perhaps  bet- 
ter than  I  do  my  own,  I  venture  to  answer  for  him.  You 
confess  that  he  already  knows  you  love  him  ;  that  he 
has  received  such  demonstrations  with  coldness.  Re- 
collect what  it  is  you  love  him  for,  and  then  judge  if  he 
could  do  otherwise.  Could  he  approve  affections  which 
a  wife  transfered  to  him  from  her  husband,  and  that  hus- 
band his  friend  ?" — "  Ah  !  but  he  is  now  dead  T'  inter- 
rupted she,  "  that  obstacle  is  removed."  "  But  the 
other,  which  you  raised  yourself!"  replied  Edwin, 
'^  while  a  wife,  you  shewed  to  Sir  WilUam  Wallace  th?it 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  iSr 

you  could  not  only  indulge  yourself  in  wishes  inimicai 
to  your  nuptial  faith,  hut  you  divulged  them  to  him. 
Ah!  my  aunt!  what  could  you  look  for  as  the  conse- 
quence of  this  ?  My  uncle  yet  lived;  and  ycu  threw 
yourself  into  the  arms  of  another  man !  That  act,  were 
you  youthi\il  as  Hebe,  and  more  tender  than  ever  was 
fabled  of  the  queen  of  love,  I  am  sure  the  virtue  of 
Wallace  would  never  pardon.  He  never  could  pledge 
his  faith  to  one  whose  passions  could  silence  her  sense 
of  duty;  and  did  he  even  love  you;  he  would  not,  for 
the  empire  of  the  world,  repose  his  honour  in  your 
keeping." 

"  Edwin!"  cried  she,  at  last  summoning  power  to  speak  j 
for  she  had  sat  during  the  latter  pait  of  this  address, 
gasping  with  unutterable  disappointment  and  rage  ;  and 
turning  on  him  a  lurid  look  of  hate,  "  ?.'^e  you  not  afraid 
to  breathe  all  this  to  me  ?  I  have  given  you  my  confi- 
dence, and  do  you  abuse  it?  Do  you  stab,  me  when!  ask 
you  to  heal  ?" — "  No,  my  dear  aunt  ;"  replied  he,  "  I 
speak  the  truth  to  you,  ungrateful  as  it  is,  to  prevent 
you  hearing  it  in  perhaps  a  more  painful  form  from  Wal- 
lace himself." — <*  O  I  no  ;"  cried  she,  wiih  contemptu- 
ous haughtiness  ;"  he  is  a  man,  and  he  knows  how  to 
pardon  the  excesses  of  love  !  Look  around  you,  fool- 
ish boy,  and  see  how  many  of  our  proudest  lords  have 
united  their  fates  with  women,  v.  ho,  not  only  loved  them 
while  their  husbands  lived,  but  told  them  so,  and  left 
their  homes  and  children  to  join  their  lovers  !  Have 
not  these  lovers  since  married  them  ? — \nd  what  is 
there  in  me,  a  princess  of  the  bloods  both  of  the 
crowns  of  Scotland  and  of  Norway  ;  a, woman  who  has 
had  the  nobles  of  both  kingdoms  at  her  feet,  and  frown- 
ed upon  them  all  ;  that  1  should  now  be  contemned  ? — ■ 
Is  the  ingrate  for  whom  alone  1  ever  felt  a  wish  of  love, 
is  he  to  despise  me  for  my  passion  ? — You  mistake 
Edwin  ;  you  know  not  the  heart  of  man." — '^  Not  of  the 
common  race  of  men,  perhaps  ;"  replied  he,  "  but 
certainly  that  of  Sir  William  Wallace.  Pur'ty  and  he 
are  too  sincerely  one,  for  him  to  allow  personal  vanity 
to  blind  his  eyes  to  the  deformity  of  the  passion  yoi% 
describe.  And,  mean  as  I  am,  when  compared  with 
him,  yet  I  must  aver,  that  were  a  married  woman 


128  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

to  love  me,  and  not  only  tell  me  of  it,  but  seek  to  ex- 
cuse her  frailty,  I  should  see  her  contempt  of  the 
principles  which  are  the  only  impregnable  bulwarks  of 
innocence,  and  I  should  shrink  from  her,  as  I  would 
from  pollution."  "  Then  you  declare  yourself  my  ene- 
my, Edwin  ?"  "  No  ;"  replied  he,  "  I  speak  to  you  as  a 
son  :  and  if  you  choose  to  venture  to  say  to  Sir  Wil- 
liam Wallace,  what  you  have  said  to  me,  I  shall  not 
even  observe  on  what  has  past,  but  leave  yon,  unhappy 
lady,  to  the  pangs  I  would  have  spared  you.'* 

He  rose. — Lady  Mar  wrung  her  hands  in  a  paroxysm 
of  conviction  that  what  he  said  was  true. — "  Then,  Ed- 
win, I  must  despair  !" — He  looked  at  her  with  pity  : 
"Could  you  abhor  the  dereliction  that  your  soul  has  thus 
made  from  duty,  and  leave  him,  (whom  your  iinwid- 
owed  wishes  nov/  pursue,)  to  seek  you  ;  then  I  should 
say  that  you  might  be  happy  :  for  penitence  appeases 
God,  and  shall  it  not  find  grace  with  man  :" "  Bles- 
sed Edwin  1"  cried  she,  falling  on  his  neck  and  kissing 
him  ;  "  whisper  but  niy  penitence  to  Wallace  :  teach 
him  to  think  I  hate  myself.  O  1  make  me  that  in  his 
eyes  which  you  would  wish,  and  I  vi  ill  adore  you  on 
my  knees  !'* 

The  door  opened  at  this  moment,  and  Lord  Ruth- 
ven  entered.  The  tears  she  was  so  profusely  sl^ed- 
ding  on  the  bosom  of  his  son,  he  attributed  to  some 
conversation  she  might  be  holding  respecting  her  de- 
ceased lord,  and  taking  her  hand,  after  some  words 
of  condolence,  he  told  her  that  he  came  to  propose  her 
removal  on  the  following  morning  from  the  scene  of  all 
these  horrors.  "  I,  my  dear  sister,"  said  he,  "  will  at- 
tend you  as  far  as  Perth.  After  that,  Edwin  will  be 
your  guard  to  Braemar  ;  and  my  Janet  shall  stay  with 
you  there,  till  time  has  softened  your  griefs."  Lady 
Mar  looked  at  him  ;  "  And  where  will  be  Sir  William 
Wallace  ?"  "  He,"  answered  Ruthven,  "  will  be  de- 
tained here.  Some  considerations,  consequent  to  his 
receiving  the  French  dispatches,  will  hold  him  some 
time  longer  south  of  the  Forth."  Lady  Mar  shook 
her  head  doubtfully  at  this,  and  reminded  him  that 
ihe  chiefs  in  the  citadel  had  withheld  the  dispatches.^ 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  129 

Lord  Ruthven  then  informed  her,  that  Lord  Loch- 
awe,  on  heanng  the  particulars  of  the  transaction  in 
the  citadel  had,  unknown  to  Wallace,  summoned  the 
most  powerful  of  his  friends  then  near  Stirling  ;  and 
attended  by  them  and  a  large  body  of  armed  men,  he 
was  carried  in  a  litter  to  that  city.  In  the  same  manner 
he  entered  the  council-hail,  and  though  on  that  bed  of 
-weakness,  he  threatened  the  assembly  with  instant 
death  from  his  troops  without,  unless  they  would  con- 
sent immediately  to  swear  obedience  to  Wallace,  and 
to  compel  Badenoch  to  give  up  the  French  dispatches. 
Violent  tumults  were  the  consequence :  but  Loch- 
awe's  Ihter  being  guarded  by  a  double  rank  of  armed 
chieftains  ;  and  the  Keep  being  hemmed  round  with 
men  prepared  to  put  to  the  sword  every  Scot  hostile  to 
the  proposition  of  their  lord,  the  insurgents  at  last  com- 
plied ;  and  used  some  coercion  to  force  Badenoch  to 
relinquish  the  royal  packet.  This  triumph  effected, 
Loch-awe  and  his  train  returned  to  the  monastery. 
Wallace  was  resolute  not  to  re-assume  the  dignity  he 
had  resigned,  and  the  re-acknowledgment  of  which  had 
been  extorted  from  the  lords  in  the  citadel.  "  No  ;'* 
said  he, to  Loch-awe  ;  "  it  is  indeed  time  that  I  should 
sink  into  shades  where  I  cannot  be  found,  since  I  am 
become  a  word  of  contention  amongst  my  country^ 
men." 

Finding  him  not  to  be  shaken,  his  friends  urged  him 
TiO  farther  :  and  Ru-hven  saying,  that  on  opening  the 
French  dispatches,  he  had  found  matter  in  them  to 
prevent  his  seeking  the  repose  of  Braemar; — "Then 
we  will  wait  for  him  here,'*  cried  the  Countess. — "That 
would  be  wrong;"  answered  Ruthven,  "  it  is  against 
the  sacred  laws  of  the  church  to  detain  the  remains 
of  the  dead  so  long  from  their  grave.  He  will  doubt- 
less visit  Mar  ;  therefore  to-monow  I  advise  your  leav- 
ing Falkirk." 

Edwin  seconded  this  council  ;  and  her  ladyship, 
fearful  of  making  further  opposition,  silently  acqui- 
esced. But  her  spirit  was  not  so  quiescent. — At  night 
when  she  went  to  her  cell,  her  ever-wakeful  fancy 
aroused  a  thousand  images  of  alarm.  She  remember- 
ed the  vow  that  Wallace   had  made  to  seek  Heieii, 


130  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

He  had  already  given  up  the  Regency,  which  might 
have  detained  him  from  such  a  pursuit  ;  and  might 
not  a  passion,  softer  than  indignation  against  the  uii- 
grateful  chieftains,  have  dictated  this  act  ?"  "  Oh  Ishould 
he  love  Helen,  what  is  there  not  to  fear  !"  cried  she  ; 
but  should  hemeether,  lam  undone  1"  Thus,  racked  by 
jealousy,  and  goaded  on  by  contradicting  expectations, 
she  rose  from  her  bed,  and  paced  the  room  in  wild  dis- 
order. At  one  moment  she  strained  her  mind  to  recol- 
lect any  kind  look  or  word  from  him  ;  and  her  imaL^i- 
nation  glowed  with  anticipated  delight.  Again  she 
thought  of  his  address  to  Helen,  of  his  vow  in  her  favour, 
and  she  was  driven  to  despair.  All  Edwin's  kindadmoih- 
tions  were  forgotten,  passion  was  alone  awake;and  forget- 
ful of  her  rank  and  sex,  and  of  her  situation,  she  deter- 
mined to  see,  and  appeal  to  the  heart  of  Wallace  for 
the  last  time.  She  knew  that  he  slept  in  an  a  part- 
ment  at  the  other  end  of  the  monastery  :  and  that  she 
might  pass  thither  unobserved,  she  glided  into  an  op- 
posite cell  where  lay  a  sick  monk,  and  stealing  away 
his  cloak,  threw  it  over  her,  and  hurried  along  the  clois- 
ters. 

The  chapel  doom's  were  open  ;  and  as  she  passed, 
she  saw  the  bier  of  her  lord  awaiting  the  hour  of  its  re- 
moval, and  surrounded  by  the  priests  who  were  singing 
anthems  for  the  repose  of  his  soul.  No  tender  recol- 
lections, no  remorse,  knocked  at  the  heart  of  Lady 
Mar  as  she  sped  along.  Abandoned  to  all  but  thoughts 
of  Wallace,  she  felt  not  that  she  had  a  soul  ;  she  ac- 
knowledged not  that  she  had  a  hope  but  what  centered 
in  the  smiles  of  the  man  she  was  hastening  to  find. 

His  door  was  fastened  with  a  latch :  she  gently  ', 
opened  it,  and  found  herself  in  a  moment  in  his  cham-  5 
ber.  She  trembled; — she  scarcely  breathed;  she  ap- - 
preached  his  bed,  but  he  was  not  there. — Disappoint- 
ment palsied  her  heart,  and  she  sunk  upon  a  chair,  al- 
most fainting.  "  Am  I  betrayed  ?"  said  she,  to  herself,. 
"Has  that  youthful  hypocrite  warned  him  hence?"'' 
And  then  again  she  thought:  "  But  how  should  Edwin  i 
guess  that  1  should  venture  here?  O,  no;  my  cruel: 
stars  alone  are  against  me  1*' 

She  hovf  determined  to  await  his  return  i  and  nearly 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  13 1 

I  three  hours  she  passed  there,  enduring  all  the  torments 

r  of  guilt  and   misery;  but  he  appeared  not.     At  last, 

I  hearing  the  matin-bell,  she  started  from  her  seat,  fear- 

;ful  that  at  the  dawn  of  morning  some  one  of  her  maids 

I  might,  by  entering  her  apartment,   miss  her.      She, 

:  therefore,  with  a  most  unwilling  mind,  rose  to  leave 

;the  shrine  of  her  idolatry  ;  and  once  more  crossing  the 

cloisters,  as  she  was  drawing  towards  the  chapel,  she 

I  saw  ^Vallace  himself  issue  from  the  door,  supporting 

jon  his  bosom  the  fainting  head  of  Lady  Ruthven.     Ed- 

j  win  followed  them.     Lady  Mar  pulled  her  cowl  over 

jher  face,  and  withdrew  behind  a  pillar.  *'  Ah  !"  thought 

she,  "  absenting   myself  from   my  duty   I   fled   from 

thee !"     She  listened  with  breathless  attention  to  what 

might  be  said. 

Lord  Ruthven  met  them  at  that  instant.  "  The  ex- 
haustion of  this  night's  watching  by  the  bier  of  her  bro- 
ther," said  Wallace,  "  has  worn  out  your  gentle  lady  : 
we  supported  her  through  the  whole  of  these  sad  vi- 
gils, but  at  last  she  sunk."  What  Ruthven  said  in  re- 
ply, as  he  took  his  wife  in  his  arms,  the  Countess  could 
not  hear :  but  Wallace  answered,  "  I  have  not  seen 
her."  "I  left  her  late  in  the  evening,  drowned  in  tears," 
replied  Ruthven,  in  a  more  elevated  tone;  "  and  there- 
fore I  suppose  that  she  in  secret  offers  those  prayers 
for  her  husband,  which  my  tender  Janet  pours  over  his 
gravel" 

"  Such  tears,"  replied  Wallace,  "  arc  heaven's  own 
balm.  I  know  they  purify  the  heart  whence  they 
flow.  And  the  prayers  we  breathe  for  those  we  love, 
unite  our  souls  the  closer  to  theirs.  Look  up,  dear  Lady 
Ruthven,"  said  he,  as  she  began  to  revive  ;  "  look  up, 
and  hear  how  you  may  yet  on  earth  retain  the  society 
of  your  beloved  brother!  Even  by  seeking  his  spirit 
at  the  footstool  of  God.  'Tis  thus  I  live,  sister  of  my 
most  venerated  friend  I  My  soul  is  ever  on  the  wing 
for  heaven, — in  banquets,  as  in  the  solitary  hour ;  in  joy, 
as  in  sorrow.  For  I  know  where  my  treasure  lives — 
in  the  bosom  of  her  God  !  So  believe  of  your  brother  : 
and  there,  with  prayer  and  thanksgiving,  our  rejoicing 
spirits  shall  meet  those  we  love  !" 

"  Wallace  I  Wallace  1"  cried  Lady  Ruthven,  looking 


132  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

on  his  animated  countenance  with  wondering  rapture  ;' 
"  and  art  thou  a  man  and  a  soldier  ?  Oh  I  rather  say, 
an  angel,  lent  us  here  a  little  while  to  teach  us  to  live 
and  die  !"  A  glowing  blush  passed  over  the  pale  but 
benign  cheek  of  Wallace.  "  I  am  a  soldier  of  him  who 
was  indeed  brought  into  the  world  to  shew  us  by  his 
life  and  death,  how  to  be  virtuous  and  happy.  Know 
me  by  my  life  to  be  his  follower,  and  David  himself 
wore  not  a  more  glorious  title  1" 

Lady  Mar,  while  she  contemplated  the  matchless 
form  before  her,  exclaimed  to  herself,  "  Why  was  it 
animated  by  as  faultless  a  soul ! — Oh  !  Wallace  !  wert 
thou  less  excellent,  I  might  hope — but  hell  is  in  my 
heart  and  heaven  in  thine  1"  She  tore  her  eyes  from  a 
view  which  blasted  v/hile  it  charmed  her,  and  rushed 
from  the  cloisters. 


CHAP.  XIII. 

X  HE  sun  rose  as  the  funeral  procession  of  the  Earl « 
of  Mar  moved  from  before  the  gates  of  the  monastery! 
at  Falkirk.     Eord  Ruthven  and  Edwin  mounted  their  ] 
horses.     The  maids  of  the  two  ladies  led  them  forth 
towards  the  litters  which  were  to  convey  them  so  long 
a  journey.     Lady  Ruthven  came   first,  and    Wallace 
placed  her  tenderly  in  her  carriage.     The   Countess 
next  appeared,  clad  from  head  to  foot  in  the  deep  weeds 
of  her  widowhood.     Her  child  followed  in  the  arms  of? 
its  nurse.     At  sight  of  the  innocent  babe  whom  he  had 
so  often  seen  pressed  to  the  fond  bosom  of  the  father  ji 
he  was  now  following  to  his  grave,  tears  rushed  into  ; 
the  eyes  of  Wallace.     Lady  Mar  at  that  moment  lifted  || 
her  veil,  and  meeting  his  commiserating  look,  applied 
it  to  herself,  and  with  a  flush  of  joy  bunk  her  head  upon 
the  shoulder  of  her  maid.    Wallace  advanced  to  her  re- 
spectfully, avjd  handing  her  to  her  vehicle,  urged  her  to 
cherish  life  for  the  sake  of  her  child.     She  threw  her- 
self back  in  violent  agitation  on  her  pillow,  and  Wal- 
lace deeming  the  presence  of  her  babe  the  surest  com- 
ibrter,  after  blessing  it  with  all  the  fervor  of  its  father's 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  ut 

iViend,  laid  it  by  her  side.  At  that  moment,  before  he 
had  relinquished  it,  she  bent  her  face  upon  his  hands, 
and  bathing  them  with  her  tears,  in  a  stifled  voice  said, 
"  Oh !  Wallace,  remember  meT'  Lord  Ruthven  rode 
up  to  bid  adieu  to  iiis  friend,  and  the  litters  moved  on. 
Wallace  promised  that  both  he  and  Edwin  should  hear 
of  him  in  the  course  of  a  few  days  ;  and  affectionately 
grasping  the  hand  of  the  latter,  bade  him  farewell. 

Hear  of  him  they  should,  but  not  see  him ;  for  it  was 
his  determination  to  set  off  that  night  for  Durham, 
where  he  was  informed  that  Edward  with  the  remains 
of  his  army  now  lay,  and  joined  by  his  yonng  queen, 
meant  to  sojourn  till  his  wounds  were  healed.  Wal- 
lace believed  that  his  presence  in  Scotland  could  be  no 
longer  serviceable,  and  might  engender  continual  intes- 
tine divisions ;  he  would  therefore  seek  to  fulfil  his  vow 
to  Mar,  (for  he  thought  it  probable  that  Helen  might 
be  carried  to  the  English  court),  and  then  attempt  an 
interview  with  young  Bruce,  to  learn  how  far  he  had 
succeeded  in  persuading  his  father  to  leave  the  vassa- 
lage of  Edward,  and  to  resume  the  sceptre  of  his  an- 
cestors. 

To  effect  his  plan  without  hinderance,  immediately 
on  the  disappearance  of  the  cavalcade,  he  retired  to  his 
apartment,  and  addressed  a  letter  to  Lord  Ruthven, 
telling  him  that  he  was  going  on  an  expedition  which, 
he  trusted  in  heaven,  would  prove  beneficial  to  his 
country ;  but  as  it  was  an  enterprise  of  rashness,  he 
would  not  load  his  soul  with  making  any  one  his  com- 
panion; and  therefore  he  begged  Lord  Ruthven  to 
teach  his  friends  so  to  consider  a  flight,  which  they 
might  otherwise  deem  unkind. 

All  the  brother  was  in  his  letter  to  Edwin;  conjuring 
him  to  prove  his  affection  for  his  friend,  by  quietly 
abiding  at  home  till  they  should  meet  again  in  Scotland, 

Another  epistle  he  wrote  to  Andrew  Murray,  now 
Lord  Bothvveil :  addressing  him  as  the  first  chieftain 
who  with  him  had  struck  a  blow  for  Scotland,  and  as 
his  dear  friend  and  brother  soldier,  he  confided  to  his 
care  the  valiant  troop  which  had  followed  him  from 
Lanark  ; — "  Tell  them,"  said  he,  "that  in  obeying  you, 
they  still  serve  with  me ;  they  perform  their  duty  to 

VOL.    11  M 


154  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Scotland,  at  home — I,  abroad :  our  aim  is  the  same', 
and  we  shall  meet  again  at  the  happy  consummation  oi 
our  labours." 

These  letters  he  inclosed  in  one  to  Scrymgeour, 
with  orders  to  dispatch  two  of  them  according  to  their 
directions ;  but  that  to  Murray,  Scrymgeour  was  him- 
self, at  the  head  of  the  Lanarkers,  to  take  to  that  noble- 
man, who  would  explain  to  him  his  farther  wishes. 

At  the  glooming  of  evening  Wallace  left  the  mona- 
stery, and  at  the  door,  put  his  packet  into  the  hand  of 
the  porter  to  deliver  to  Scrymgeour  when  he  should 
appear  there  at  his  usual  hour.  As  the  chief  meant  to 
assume  a  minstrel's  garb  that  he  might  travel  the 
country  unrecognised  as  its  once  adored  Regent,  he 
took  his  way  towards  a  cave  in  Torwood,  where  he 
had,  at  noon,  deposited  his  means  of  disguise.  When 
n.rrived  there,  he  disarmed  himself  of  all  but  his  sword, 
dirk,  and  breastplate  ;  he  covered  his  tartan  gambeson 
with  a  minstrel's  cassoc  ;  and  staining  his  bright  com- 
plexion with  the  juice  of  a  berry,  concealed  his  brighter 
locks  beneath  a  close  bonnet.  Being  thus  completely 
equipped,  he  threw  his  harp  over  his  shoulder ;  and 
having  first,  in  that  deep  solitude  where  no  eye  beheld, 
no  ear  heard  him,  but  that  of  God,  invoked  a  blessing 
on  his  enterprise ;  with  a  buoyant  spirit,  rejoicing  in 
the  power  in  whose  light  he  moved,  he  went  forth,  and 
under  the  sweet  serenity  of  a  summer  night,  pursued  • 
his  way  along  the  broom-clad  hills  of  Muiravenside. 

All  lay  in  profound  rest. — Not  a  human  creature 
crossed  his  path  till  the  carol  of  the  lark  summoned  the 
husbandman  to  his  rural  toil,  and  spread  the  thymy 
hills  and  daisied  pastures  with  herds  and  flocks.  As 
the  lowing  of  cattle  descending  to  the*water,  and  the 
bleating  of  sheep  hailing  the  morning  beam,  came  on 
every  breeze,  and  mingled  with  the  joyous  voices  of 
their  herdsmen  calling  to  each  other  from  afar ;  as  all 
met  the  ear  of  Wallace,  his  conscious  heart  could  not 
but  whisper — "  I  have  been  the  happy  instrument  to 
effect  this  !  I  have  restored  every  man  to  his  paternal 
fields  I  I  have  filled  all  these  honest  breasts  with  glad- 
ness 1" 

He  stopped  at  a  little  mo^s-covered  cabin  on  a  burn. 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  135 

side  beneath  Craig  Castle  in  Mid-Lothian,  and  was 
hospitably  entertained  by  the  simple  inhabitants.  Wal- 
lace repaid  their  kindness  with  a  few  ballads  which  he 
sang  accompanied  by  his  harp.  As  he  gave  the  last 
notes  oi  King  Arthur^ s  Death  in  Glory <^  the  worthy 
cottar  raised  his  head  from  the  spade  on  which  he 
leaned,  and  asked  whether  he  could  not  sing  about  the 
present  glory  of  Scotland  ?  "Our  renowned  Wallace,'* 
said  he,  "  is  worth  King  Arthur  and  all  the  knights  of 
his  round  table  ;  for  he  not  only  conquers  for  us  in  war, 
but  establishes  us  in  happy  peace.  Who,  like  him  of 
all  our  great  captains,  took  such  care  of  the  poor,  as  to 
give  them  not  only  the  bread  thatsustaineth  the  tempo- 
ral, but  that  which  supports  the  eternal  life  ?  Sing  us 
then  his  praises,  minstrel,  and  tarry  with  us  days  in- 
stead of  hours."  The  wife  and  the  children,  who 
clung  around  their  melodious  visitant,  joined  in  this  re- 
quest ;  but  Wallace  rising,  with  a  saddened  smile  said, 
**  I  cannot  sing  what  you  require  :  but  you  may  oblige 
Sir  William  Wallace,  li  you  will  take  a  letter  from  him, 
of  which  I  am  the  bearer,  to  Lord  Dundaff  at  Berwick. 
I  have  been  seeking  for  a  faithful  Scot  to  whom  I  could 
intrust  it,  and  now  I  have  found  one.  It  is  to  reveal  to 
the  noble  Dundaff,  the  death  of  his  gallant  son,  for 
whom  all  Scotland  must  mourn  to  its  latest  genera^ 
tions." 

The  honest  shepherd  gladly  accepted  this  mission ; 
and  his  wife,  loading  their  guest's  scrip  with  her 
choicest  fruits  and  cakes,  accompanied  him,  followed 
by  the  children,  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill. 

In  this  manner,  sitting  at  the  board  of  the  lowly,  and 
sleeping  beneath  the  thatched  roof,  did  Wallace  pursue 
his  way  through  Tweeuale  and  Ettrick  Forest,  till  he 
reached  the  Cheviots.  From  every  lip  he  heard  his 
own  praises  ;  heard  them  with  redoubled  satisfaction, 
for  he  could  have  no  suspicion  of  their  sincerity,  as 
they  were  uttered  to  a  poor  minstrel,  and  by  persons 
without  expectation  that  their  expressions  of  gratitude 
would  ever  reach  the  Regent's  ear. 

It  was  the  sabbath-day  when  he  mounted  the  Che- 
viots. He  stood  on  one  of  their  summits,  and  leaning 
on  his  harp,  contemplated  the  fertile  dales  he  left  be- 


156  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

,hind.  The  gay  villagers  in  their  best  attires,  wepe 
thronging  to  their  churches,  while  the  aged,  too  infirm 
for  the  walk,  were  sitting  cheerfully  in  the  sun  at  their 
cottage  doors,  adoring  their  Almighty  Benefactor  in  the 
sublimer  temple  of  the  universe.  AH  spoke  of  security 
and  happiness.  "Thus  I  leave  you,  beloved  Scotland  I 
And  may  I,  on  my  return  over  these  hills,  still  behold 
thy  sons  and  daughters  rejoicing  in  the  heaven-bestow- 
ed peace  of  their  land !" 

Having  descended  into  Northumberland,  his  well- 
replenished  scrip  was  his  only  provider ;  and  when  it 
was  exhausted,  he  purchased  food  from  the  peasantry* 
He  v/ould  not  accept  the  hospitality  of  a  country  which 
he  had  so  lately  trodden  down  as  an  enemy.  Here  he 
heard  hisname  mentioned  with  terror  as  well  as  admira- 
tion. While  many  related  circumstances  of  misery  to 
which  the  ravaging  of  their  lands  had  reduced  them,  all 
concurred  in  speaking  highly  of  the  moderation  with 
which  the  Scottish  leader  treated  his  conquests. 

Late  in  the  evening  Wallace  arrived  at  the  north  side 
of  the  river  that  surrounds  the  episcopal  city  of  Dur- 
ham. He  crossed  Elvet  Bridge. — His  minstrel  garb 
(it  being  a  privileged  character)  prevented  his  being 
stopped  by  the  guard  at  the  gate  ;  but  as  he  entered 
Tinder  the  porch,  a  horse  that  was  going  through  started 
at  his  abrupt  appearance.  Its  rider  suddenly  exclaimed, 
"  Fool,  thou  dost  not  see  Sir  "William  Wallace  ?"  Then 
turning  to  the  object  of  the  animal's  alarm,  he  called 
out:  "Harper,  you  frighten  my  horse:  draw  back  till 
I  pass."  Wallace,  not  displeased  to  find  that  the  terror 
}i^oi  him  was  so  great  amongst  the  enemies  of  Scotland, 
that  they  even  addressed  their  animals  as  if  they  shared 
their  dread  ;  stood  out  of  the  way,  and  saw  the  speaker 
to  be  a. young  Southron  knight,  who  now  with  difficulty 
kept  his  seat  oq  the  restive  beast.  Making  a  desper- 
ate plunge,  it  would  have  thrown  him,  had  not  Wal- 
lace put  forth  his  hand  and  seized  the  bridle.  By  his 
assistance,  the  horse  v/as  soothed ;  and  the  young  lord 
thanking  hiiu  for  his  services,  told  him,  that  as  a  re- 
v/ard-  if  he  chose,  he  would  introduce  him  to  play  be- 
fore the  queen,  who  that  day  held  a  grand  feast  at  the 
bishop's   palacp.     Wallace,    who  thought   it  probable 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  137 

that  he  might  either  see  or  hear  tidings  of  Lady  Helen 
in  this  assembly,  and  most  likely  find  easier  access  to 
Bruce  than  he  could  otherwise  do,  gladly  accepted  the 
offer.  Accordingly  the  knight,  who  was  Sir  Piers 
Gaveston,  the  son  of  a  brave  Gascon  nobleman  who  had 
joined  the  king  of  England's  party,  ordered  the  min- 
strel to  follow  him.  He  turned  his  horse  towards  the 
city,  and  Wallace  obeying,  was  conducted  through  the 
gates  of  the  citadel  to  the  palace  within  its  walls. 

On  entering  the  banqueting  hall,  he  was  placed  by 
the  knight  in  the  musician's  gallery,  there  to  await  his 
summons  to  her  majesty.  The  entertainment  being 
spread,  the  room  was  soon  full  of  guests  ;  and  the 
queen  was  led  in  by  the  haughty  bishop  of  the  see,  the 
king  being  too  ill  of  his  wounds  to  allow  of  his  joining 
so  large  a  company.  The  beauties  of  the  lovely  sister 
of  Philip  le  Bel  seemed  to  fill  the  gaze  and  hearts  of  all 
the  by-standers,  and  none  appeared  to  remember  that 
Edward  was  absent.  Wallace  hardly  glanced  on  her 
youthful  charms  :  his  eyes  roamed  from  side  to  side  in 
quest  of  a  fairer,  a  dearer  object ;  the  captive  daughter 
of  his  dead  friend  !  But  Helen  was  not  there,  neither 
was  De  Valence ;  but  Buchan,  Athol,  and  Souiis  sat 
near  the  royal  Margaret  in  all  the  pomp  of  feudal 
grandeur,  but  sullen  and  revengeful ;  for  the  defeat  on 
the  Carron  had  obscured  the  victory  of  Falkirk,  and 
instead  of  their  having  presented  Edward  to  his  young 
queen  as  the  conqueror  of  Scotland,  she  had  found  him 
and  them  fugitives  in  the  Castle  of  Durham. 

As  soon  as  the  royal  band  had  finished  their  grand 
pieces,  Gaveston  pressed  forward  towards  the  queen, 
and  told  her  that  he  had  presumed  to  introduce  a  tra- 
velling minstrel  into  the  gallery,  hoping  that  she  would 
order  him  to  perform  for  her  amusement,  as  he  could 
sing  legends  from  the  descent  of  the  Romans  to  the 
victories  of  Edward  I.  With  all  the  eagerness  of  her 
age  in  quest  of  novelties,  she  commanded  that  he  should 
be  immediately  brought  to  her. 

Gaveston  having  presented  him,  Wallace  bowed  with 

the  respect  due  to  her  sex  and  dignity,  and  to  the  es-' 

teem  in  which  he  held  her  royal  brother.     Margaret 

desired  him  to  place  his  harp  before  her,  and  begin  to 

M  3 


138  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

sing.  As  he  knelt  on  one  knee  and  struck  its  sounding 
chon's,  she  stopped  him  by  the  inquiry  of  whence  he 
came  ?  "  From  the  north  country,"  was  his  reply. 
''  Were  you  ever  in  Scotland  ?  asked  she.     «  Often." 

The  young'  lords  crowded  round  to  hear  this  dialogue 
between  majesty  and  lowliness. — She  smiled,  and  turn- 
ing to  the  nobles,  said,  "  Do  not  accuse  me  of  disloy- 
alty either  to  my  king  or  my  husband  ;  but  I  have  a  cu- 
riosity to  ask  another  question.*'  "  Nothing  your  ma- 
jesty wishes  to  know,"  said  Bishop  Beck,  "  can  be 
amiss."  "  Then  tell  me,"  cried  she,  "  (for  you  wan- 
dering minstrels  see  all  the  great,  good  or  bad,  else  how 
could  you  make  songs  about  them  ?)  did  you  ever  meet 
Sir  William  Wallace  m  your  travels  ?'*  "  I  have,  ma- 
dam." "  Pray  tell  me  what  he  is  like  !  for  you  will  pro- 
bably be  unprejudiced  ;  and  that  is  what  I  can  hardly 
expect  in  this  case,  from  any  of  these  brave  lords." 
Wallace,  wishing  to  avoid  further  questioning  on  this 
subject,  replied,  "  I  have  never  seen  him  so  distinctly, 
as  to  be  able  to  prove  any  right  to  your  majesty's  opin- 
ion of  my  judgment."  ^'Cannot  you  sing  me  some 
ballad  about  him  ?'*  inquired  she,  laughing,  "  and  if  you 
are  a  little  poetical  in  your  praise,  I  will  excuse  you,  as 
3Tiy  royal  father  thinks  he  would  have  shewn  bright  in  a 
fairer  cause."  "  My  songs  are  dedicated  to  glory  set 
in  the  grave  ;"  returned  Wallace,  "  therefore  Sir  Wil- 
liam Wallace's  faults  or  virtues  will  not  be  sung  by  me.'' 
"  Then  he  is  a  very  young  man,  I  suppose,"  for  you  are 
not  very  old,  and  yet  you  talk  of  not  surviving  him.  I 
was  in  hopes,"  cried  she,  addressing  Beck  ;  "  that  my 
lord  the  king  would  have  brought  this  Wallace  to  have 
supped  with  me  here  ;  but  for  once  rebellion  overcame 
its  master." 

Beck  made  some  reply  which  Wallace  did  not  hear^ 
and  the  queen  again  turning  to  him,  said,  "  My  good 
minstrel,  we  French  ladies  are  v€ry  fond  of  beauty  ; 
and  you  will  not  a  little  reconcile  me  to  these  northern 
realms,  if  you  will  tell  me  whether  he  is  any  thing  like 
as  handsome  as  any  one  of  the  gay  knights  with  whom 
you  see  me  surrounded?"  Wallace  smiled,  and  replied, 
"  The  beauty  of  Sir  William  Wallace  lies  in  a  strong 
arm  and  a  tender  heart;  and  if  these  be  charms  in  the 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  139 

eyes  of  female  goodness,  he  may  hope  not  to  be  quitt 
an  object  of  abhorrence  to  the  sister  of  Philip  of  France  I*' 
The  minstrel  bowed  as  he  spoke,  and  the  young  queen 
laughing  again,  said,  "  I  wish  not  to  come  within  the 
influence  of  either.  But  sing  me  some  Scottish  legend, 
and  I  will  promise,  wherever  I  see  the  knight,  to  treat 
him  with  all  the  courtesy  due  from  a  daughter  of 
France.'* 

Wallace  again  struck  the  chords  of  his  harp ;  and 
with  a  voice  whose  full  and  melodious  tones  rolled 
round  the  vast  concave  of  the  hall,  he  sang  the  triumphs 
of  Reuther  (u)  The  queen,  as  he  sang,  fixed  her  eyes 
upon  him ;  and  when  he  ended,  she  turned  and  said  to 
Gaveston,  "  If  the  voice  of  this  man  had  been  Wallace's 
trumpet,  I  should  not  now  wonder  at  the  discomfiture 
of  England.  He  almost  tempted  me  from  my  allegi- 
ance, as  the  warlike  animation  of  his  notes  seemed  to 
charge  the  flying  Southrons."  Speaking,  she  rose,  and 
presentinga  jewelled  ring  to  the  minstrel,  left  the  apart- 
ment. 

The  lords  crowded  out  after  her ;  and  the  musicians 
coming  down  from  the  gallery,  seated  themselves  with 
much  rude  jollity  to  regale  on  the  remnants  of  the 
feast.  Wallace,  who  had  before  discovered  the  sena- 
chie  (^)  of  Bruce,  by  the  arms  on  his  coat,  gladly  saw 
him  drawing  towards  him.  He  came  to  invite  the  stran- 
ger minstrel  to  partake  of  their  fare.  Wallace  did  not 
appear  to  decline  it ;  and  as  the  court  bard  seemed  ra- 
ther devoted  to  the  pleasures  of  wine,  he  found  it  not 
difficult  to  draw  from  him  what  he  wanted  to  know.  He 
learnt  that  young  Bruce  v.'as  still  in  the  castle  under 
arrest ;  "  and,"  added  the  man,  "  I  shall  feel  no  little 
mortification  to  be  obliged,  in  the  course  of  half  an 
hour,  to  relinquish  these  festivities  for  the  gloomy  du- 
ties of  his  apartment." 

This  was  precisely  the  point  to  which  Wallace  had 
wished  to  lead  him ;  and  pleading  fatigue,  he  offered  to 
supply  the  senachie's  place  in  the  earl's  chamber.  The 
half-intoxicated  bard  accepted  the  proposition  with  ea- 
gerness ;  and  as  the  shades  of  night  had  long  closed  in, 
he  conducted  his  illustrious  substitute  through  some 
vaulted  passages  which   led  from  the  palace   to  the. 


Ua  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

large  round  tower  f"'>  of  the  castle  ;  informing  him,  as 
they  went,  that  he  was  to  sleep  in  a  recess  adjoining  to 
Bruce's  room  ;  but  that  he  was  to  continue  playing  there 
till  the  last  vesper  bell  from  the  abbey  in  the  neighbour- 
hood should  give  the  signal  for  his  laying  aside  the 
harp.  By  that  time  Bruce  v/ould  be  fallen  asleep,  and 
he  might  then  lie  down  on  the  pallet  in  the  recess. 

All  this  Wallace  promised  punctually  to  obey ;  and 
being  conducted  by  the  senachie  up  a  spiral  stair- 
case, was  left  in  the  little  anti-room.  The  chief  drew 
the  cowl  of  his  minstrel  cloak  over  his  face,  and  set  his 
harp  before  him  in  order  to  play.  He  could  see  through 
its  strings  that  a  group  of  knights  were  in  earnest  con- 
versation at  the  farther  end  of  the  apartment,  but  they 
spoke  so  low  that  he  could  not  hear  what  was  said.  One 
of  the  party  turned  round,  and  the  lamp  which  hung 
from  the  middle  of  the  roof  shedding  its  rays  upon  his 
face,  discovered  him  to  be  the  brave  Earl  of  Glouces- 
ter, whom  Wallace  had  taken  and  released  at  Berwick. 
Another,  the  same  light  shewed  to  be  Percy,  Earl  of 
Northumberland.  Wallace  found  the  strangeness  of 
his  situation.  He,  the  conqueror  of  Edward,  to  have 
been  singinj^  as  a  mendicant  in  his  halls :  and  having 
given  laws  to  the  two  great  men  before  him,  he  now  sat 
in  their  view  as  unobserved  as  ur.feared  by  then\I  Their 
figures  concealed  that  of  Bruce  :  but  at  last,  when  ail 
rose  together,  he  heard  Gloucester  say  in  rather  an  ele- 
vated voice,  "  Keep  up  your  spirits. — This  envy  of  your 
"base  countrymen  will  recoil  upon  themselves.  It  can- 
not be  long  before  King  Edward  discovers  the  motives 
of  their  accusations,  and  his  noble  nature  will  acquit 
you  accordingly. '^ 

"  My  acquittal,"  replied  Bruce  in  a  firm  tone,  "  will 
not  restore  what  Edward's  late  injustice  has  rifled  from 
me  :  and,  as  that  is  the  case,  I  am  willing  to  abide  by 
the  test  of  my  own  actions,  and  by  them  to  open  the 
door  of  my  freedom.  Your  king  may  depend  on  it," 
added  he,  with  a  sarcastic  smile,  "  that  I  am  not  a  man 
to  be  influenced  against  the  right.  Where  I  owe  duty, 
I  will  pay  it  to  the  uttermost  farthing." 

Percy,  who  did  not  apprehend  the  true  meaning  of 
this  speech,  immediately  answered,   "  I  believe  you. 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  141 

and  so  must  all  the  world :  for  did  you  not  give  brave 
proofs  of  it  in  bearing  arms  against  the  triumphant  Sir 
William  Wallace  V  "  I  did  indeed  give  proofs  of  it," 
returned  Bruce,  "  which  I  hope  the  world  will  one  day- 
know,  by  bearing  arms  against  the  usurper  of  my  coun- 
try's rights  !  And  in  defiance  of  injustice  and  treason, 
before  men  and  angels  I  swear,"  cried  he,  "  to  perform 
my  duty  to  the  end;  and  to  retrieve  to  honour,  the  in- 
sulted, the  degraded  name  of  Bruce  V* 

The  two  earls  fell  a  little  back  before  the  vehement 
action  which  accompanied  this  burst  from  the  soul  of 
Bruce  ;  and  Wallace  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  youthful 
form,  which  stood  pre-eminent  in  patriotic  virtue,  be- 
tween the  Southron  lords ;  his  fine  countenance  glow- 
ed, and  his  brave  spirit  seemed  to  emanate  in  light  from 
every  part  of  his  body.  "  My  prince  and  brother  l" 
exclaimed  Wallace  to  himself,  ready  to  rush  forward 
and  throw  himself  at  his  feet,  or  into  his  arms. 

Gloucester,  as  little  as  Northumberland,  comprehen- 
ding his  ambiguous  declaration,  replied,  ''Let  not  your 
heart,  my  brave  friend,  burn  too  hotly  against  the  king 
for  this  arrest.  He  will  be  the  more  urgent  to  oblite- 
rate by  kindness  this  injustice,  when  he  understands 
the  aims  of  the  Cummins.  I  have  myself  felt  hiswrathj 
and  as  it  was  misplaced,  who  is  there  in  England  more 
favoured  by  Edward,  than  Ralph  de  Monthermer  ?  My 
case  will  be  yours.  Good  night?  Bruce. — May  kind  an- 
gels give  you  propitious  dreams,  to  repeat  the  augury 
of  your  true  friends  1'*  Percy  at  the  same  time  shook 
hands  with  the  young  earl,  and  the  two  Southron  nobles 
left  the  room  together. 

Wallace  could  now  take  a  more  leisurely  survey  of 
Bruce.  He  no  longer  wore  the  gay  embroidered  ac- 
queton  ;  his  tunic  was  black  velvet ;  and  all  the  rest  of 
his  garments  accorded  with  the  same  mourning  hue. 
Soon  after  the  lords  quitted  him,  the  buoyant  elasticity 
of  his  figure  which  before  seemed  ready  to  rise  froni 
the  earth,  so  was  his  soul  elevated  by  his  sublime  re- 
solves, gave  way  to  melancholy  retrospections  ;  and  he 
threw  himself  into  a  chair,  with  his  hands  clasped  upon 
his  knee  and  his  eyes  fixed  in  musing  gaze  upon  the 
i]«or,     It  was  now  that  Wallace  touched  the  strings  of 


142  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

his  harp.  The  Death  of  CuthuUin  rolled  over  the 
sounding  strings:  but  Bruce  heard  as  though  he  heard 
them  not;  they  soothed  his  mood,  without  his  percei- 
ving what  it  was  that  calmed,  yet  deepened  the.  sadden- 
ing thoughts  which  possessed  him.  His  posture  re- 
mained the  same  ;  and  sigh  after  sigh  gave  the  only  re- 
sponses to  the  strains  of  the  bard. 

Wallace  grew  impatient  for  the  chimes  of  that  ves- 
per-bell which,  by  assuring  Bruce's  attendants  that  he 
was  gone  to  rest,  would  secure  from  interruption  the 
conference  he  meditated.  Two  servants  entered — 
Bruce,  scarcely  looking  up,%ade  them  withflraw,  for  he 
should  not  need  their  attendance  ;  he  did  not  know 
when  he  should  go  tobed  ;  and  he  desired  to  be  no  fur- 
ther disturbed.  The  men  obeyed ;  and  Wallace  imme- 
diately changing  the  melancholy  strain  of  his  harp, 
struck  the  chords  to  the  proud  triumph  he  had  played 
in  the  hall.  Not  one  note  of  either  piece  had  he  yet 
sung  to  Bruce  ;  but  when  he  came  to  the  passage  in  the 
Matter,  appropriated  to  these  lines : 

**  Arise,  glory  of  Albin,  from  thy  cloud. 
And  shine  upon  thine  own !" 

He  could  not  forbear  giving  the  vrords  Voice.— Bruce 
started  from  his  seat.  He  looked  towards  the  minstrel) 
and  walked  the  room  in  great  disorder  of  mind.  The 
pealing  sound  of  the  harp,  and  his  ov/n  mental  confusion, 
prevented  his  distinguishing  that  it  was  not  the  voice  of 
his  senachie.  The  words  alone,  he  heard ;  and  they 
seemed  a  call  which  his  heart  panted  to  obey.  The 
hand  of  Wallace  paused  upon  the  instrument.  He 
looked  around  to  see  that  all  observation  was  indeed  at 
a  distance.  Not  that  he  dreaded  any  thing  for  himself; 
for  his  magnanimous  mind,  courageous  from  infancy, 
by  a  natural  instinct  had  never  known  personal  fear  : 
but  anxious  that  he  should  not  precipitate  Bruce  into 
useless  danger,  he  first  satisfied  himself  that  all  was  safe; 
and  then,  as  the  young  earl  sat  in  a  paroxysm  of  emo- 
tions occasioned  by  reflections  too  racking  to  be  borne 
with  equanimity,  (for  they  carried  self-blame  along  with 
them;  or  rather  a  blame  on  his  father,  which  pierced 
him  to  the  heart,)  Wallace  slowly  advanced  from  the 
recess.    The  agitated  Bruce  accidentally  raistryg  hi"5 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  14- 


head,  to  his  surprise  beheld  a  man  in  a  minstrers  garb, 
who  was  much  too  tall  to  be  his  senachie,  and  who  ap- 
proached him,  he  thought,  with  a  caution  that  portended 
treachery.  He  sprang  on  his  feet,  and  caught  his  sword 
from  the'table  ;  and  at  the  moment,  when  perhaps  his 
voice,  by  alarming  the  attendants  that  slept  in  the  next 
I  room,  might  have  surrounded  him  with  danger,  Wal- 
lace threw  off  his  cowl.  Bruce  stood  gazing  on  him, 
stiffened  with  astonishment.  Wallace,  in  a  low  voice 
exclaimed,  "  Do  you  not  knov/  me,  my  prince  V  Bruce, 
without  speaking,  threw  his  arms  about  his  neck.  He 
was  silent  as  he  hung  on  him,  but  his  tears  flowed :  he 
had  much  to  say,  but  excess  of  emotion  rendered  it  un- 
utterable. Wallace,  as  he  returned  the  fond  embrace 
of  friendship,  ^aid,  "  How  is  it  that  I  not  only  see  you  a 
close  prisoner,  but  in  these  weeds  ?"  Bruce,  at  last  for- 
cing himself  to  articulate,  answered,  "  I  have  known 
misery  in  all  its  forms,  since  we  parted ;  but  I  have  not 
yet  power  to  name  my  grief  of  griefs,  while  I  tremble  at 
the  peril  to  which  you  have  exposed  yourself  by  seeking 
me  :  the  vanquisher  of  Edward,  the  man  who  snatched 
Scotland  from  his  grasp,  were  he  known  to  be  within 
these  walls,  would  be  a  prize  for  which  the  boiling  re- 
venge of  the  tyrant  would  give  half  his  kingdom  ! 
Think  then,  my  friend,  how  I  must  shudder  at  this  da- 
ring. I  am  surrounded  by  spies ;  and  should  you  be 
discovered,  Robert  Bruce  will  then  have  the  curses  of 
his  country  added  to  the  judgments  which  already  have 
fallen  on  his  head."  As  he  spoke,  they  sat  down  toge- 
ther on  the  couch,  and  he  continued;  "  Before  I  can  an- 
swer your  questions,  tell  me  what  immediate  cause 
could  bring  you  to  seek  the  alien  Bruce  in  prison,  and 
by  what  stratagem  you  came  in  this  disguise  into  my 
apartment?  Tell  me  the  last,  that  I  may  judge,  by  the 
means  of  your  present  safety." 

Wallace  briefly  related  the  evelits  which  sent  him 
from  Scotland,  his  rencontre  with  Piers  Gaveston,  and 
his  arrangement  with  the  senachie.  To  the  first  part 
of  the  narrative,  Bruce  listened  with  indignation.  "  I 
knev,',"  exclaimed  he,  "  from  the  boasting  of  Athol  and 
Buchan,  that  they  had  left  in  Scotland  some  dregs  of 
theip  own  refractory  spirits  ;   but   I  could  not  havt 


144,  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

guessed  that  envy  had  so  far  obliterated  gratitude  in 
the  hearts  of  my  countrymen,  that  so  many  could  be 
persuaded  to  follow  the  pernicious  counsels  of  the 
Cummins*  emissaries.  The  wolves  have  now  driven 
the  shepherd  from  the  fold,"  cried  he,  "  and  the  sheep 
will  soon  be  devoured  !  Fatal  was  the  hour  for  Scot- 
land and  your  friend,  when  you  yielded  to  the  voice  of 
faction,  and  relinquished  the  power  that  would  have 
finally  given  the  nation  peace  !" 

Wallace  then  recapitulated  his  reasons  for  having  re- 
frained from  enforcing  the  obedience  of  the  young 
Lord  Badenoch  and  his  adherents,  and  for  abdicating  a 
dignity  which  he  could  nO  longer  maintain  without 
shedding  the  blood  of  the  misguided  men  who  opposed 
him.  Bruce  acknowledged  the  wisdom  of  this  con- 
duct ;  and  then  proceeded  to  animadvert  on'  the  cha- 
racters of  the  Cummins.  He  told  Wallace  that  he  had 
met  the  two  sons  of  the  late  Lord  Badenoch  in  Guienne  ; 
that  James,  who  now  pretended  such  resentment  of  his 
father's  death,  was  ever  a  rebellious  son.  John,  who 
yet  remained  in  France,  was  of  a  less  violent  temper ; 
»'  But''  added  the  prince,  "  I  have  been  taught  to  be- 
lieve, by  one  who  will  never  counsel  me  more,  that  all 
the  Cummins,  male  and  female,  would  be  ready  at  any 
time  to  sacrifice  earth  and  heaven  to  their  ambition.  It 
is  to  Buchan  and  Athol  that  I  owe  my  prolonged  con- 
finement ;  and  to  them  I  may  date  the  premature  death 
of  my  dear  father." 

The  start  of  Wallace  declared  his  shock  at  this  in- 
formation. "  How  ?"  exclaimed  he,  "  The  Earl  of 
Carrick  dead  ?  Fell,  fell  assassins  of  their  country  !" 
The  swelling  emotions  of  his  soul  would  not  allow  him 
to  proceed,  and  Bruce  resumed — "  It  is  for  him  I  w^ar 
these  sable  garments,  poor  emblems  of  the  mournings 
of  my  soul ;  mournings,  not  so  much  for  his  loss,  (and 
that  is  grievous  as  ever  son  bore  ;)  but  because  he  lived 
not  to  let  the  world  know  what  he  really  was ;  he  lived 
not  to  bring  into  light  his  long  obscured  honour ! — 
There,  there  Wallace,  is  the  bitterness  of  this  cup  to 
me !" 

"  But  can  you  not  sweeten  it,  my  dear  prince,'*  cried 
Wallace,  "  by  relieving  all  that  he  was  cut  off  frora 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  145 

I'edeeming  ?  To  open  the  way  to  you,  I  came.**— <^  And 
I  will  enter  where  you  point ;"  returned  Bruce,  "  but 
heavy  is  my  woe,  that,  knowing  the  same  spirit  was  in. 
my  father's  bosom,  he  should  be  torn  from  the  oppor- 
tunity to  make  it  manifest:  O  !  Wallace,  that  he  should 
be  made  to  lie  down  in  a  dishonoured  grave  I  Had  he 
lived,  my  friend,  he  would  have  brightened  that  name 
which  rumour  has  sullied ;  and  I  should  have  doubly 
gloried  in  wearing  the  name  which  he  had  rendered  so 
worthy  of  being  coupled  with  the  kingly  title.  M)ble 
was  he  in  soul;  but  he  fell  amidst  a  race  of  men  whose 
art  was  equal  to  their  venality,  and  he  became  their 
dupe.  Betrayed  by  friendsiiip,  he  sunk  into  the  snare; 
for  he  had  no  dishonour  in  his  own  breast,  to  warn  him 
of  what  might  be  the  vil'any  of  others.  He  believed 
the  cajoling  speeches  of  Edward  ;  who,  on  the  first  of- 
fence of  Baliol,  had  promised  to  place  my  father  on  the 
throne.  Month  after  month  passed  away,  and  the  en- 
gagement was  unperformed.  The  disturbances  oq. 
the  continent  seemed  to  his  confiding  nature  a  sufficient 
excuse  for  the  various  delays ;  and  he  waited  in  quiet 
expectation,  till  your  name,  my  friend,  rose  glorious  irt 
Scotland.  My  father  and  myself  were  then  in  Guienne. 
Edward  persuaded  him  that  you  aifected  the  crown  5 
and  he  returned  with  that  deceiver,  to  draw  his  sword 
for  once  against  his  people  and  their  ambitious  idol,  as 
he  believed  you  to  be  ;  and  grievous  has  been  the  ex- 
piation of  that  fatal  hour  ! — Your  conference  with  him 
on  the  banks  of  the  Carron,  opened  his  eyes :  he  saw 
what  his  credulity  had  made  Scotland  suffer ;  what  a 
wreck  he  had  made  of  his  own  fame ;  and,  from  that 
moment,  he  resolved  to  follow  another  course.  But  the 
habit  of  trusting  the  affection  of  Edward,  inclined  him 
rather  to  remonstrate  with  him  on  his  rights,  than  im- 
mediately to  take  up  arms  against  him :  yet  resolved 
not  to  strike  a  second  blow  on  his  people,  when  you  as- 
sailed the  Southron  camp,  he  fled.  I,  on  quitting  you, 
came  up  with  him  in  Mid-Lothian  ;  and  he,  never  hav- 
ing missed  me  from  the  camp,  concluded  that  I  ap- 
peared thus  late  from  having  kept  in  the  rear  of  my  di- 
vision." 

Bruce  now  proceeded  to  narrate  to  Wallace  the  par- 

YOL.    II.  N 


146  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

ticulars  of  his  father's  meeting  with  the  king  at  Dur- 
ham. Instead  of  that  monarch  receiving  the  Earl  of 
Carrick  with  his  wonted  familiar  welcome,  he  turned 
coldly  from  him  when  he  approached ;  and  suffered  him 
to  take  his  usual  seat  at  the  royal  table,  without  deigning 
him  the  slightest  notice.  Bruce  was  absent  from  the 
banquet,  having  determined  never  again  to  mingle  in 
social  communion  with  the  man  whom  he  was  now  to 
regard  as  the  usurper  of  his  rights.  The  absence  of 
his  heroic  eye,  which  had  once  before  looked  the  inso- 
lent voluptuary  Buchan  into  his  inherent  insignificancy, 
emboldened  the  audacity  of  this  enemy  of  his  house, 
and,  supported  by  Athol  on  the  one  side,  and  Soulis  on 
the  other,  he  seized  a  pause  in  the  conversation,  (that 
he  might  draw  the  attention  of  all  present  on  the  dis- 
grace of  the  Earl  of  Carrick,)  and  said,  with  affected 
carelessness,—"  My  lord,  to-day  you  dine  with  clean 
hands ;  but  the  last  time  1  saw  you  at  meat,  you  eat 
your  own  blood  1"  The  Earl  of  Carrick  turned  on  him 
a  look,  which  asked  him  to  explain.  Lord  Buchan 
laughed,  and  continued  ;  "  When  we  last  met  at  table, 
was  it  not  at  supper  in  his  majesty's  tent,  after  the  vic- 
tory at  Falkirk  ?  You  were  then  red  from  the  slaughter 
of  those  people  to  whom,  I  understand,  you  now  give 
the  fondling  appellation  of  sons !  When  you  recog- 
nised the  relationship,  it  was  not  probable  that  we 
should  again  see  your  hands  in  their  brave  livery ;  and 
their  present  pallid  hue  convinces  more  than  myself  of 
the  truth  of  the  information."  W 

"  And  I,"  cried  Edward,  rising  on  the  couch  to  which 
his  wounds  confined  him,  *'  that  I  have  discovered  a 
traitor! — You  fled,  Lord  Carrick,  at  the  first  attack  i 
which  the  Scots  made  on  my  camp,  and  you  drew 
thousands  after  you.  I  know  you  too  well  to  believe 
that  cowardice  dictated  the  motion.  It  was  treachery, 
accursed  treachery  to  your  friend  and  king ;  and  you 
shall  feel  the  weight  of  his  displeasure  !"— "  To  this 
hour,  King  Edward,"  replied  the  Earl,  starting  from 
his  chair,  "  I  have  been  more  faithful  to  you,  than  to 
my  country  or  my  God  !  1  heard,  saw,  and  believed, 
only  what  you  determined ;  and  I  became  your  slave ; 
your  vile,  oppressed  slave  1— -The  victim  of  your  arj^i- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  U7 

lice  ! — How  often  have  you,  preceding  your  Scottish 
battles,  promised,  were  they  successful,  that  you  would 
restore  me  to  the  crown  of  my  ancestors !  I  believed 
you  ;  and  I  engaged  all  who  yet  acknowledged  the  in- 
fluence of  Bruce,  to  support  your  cause  in  Scotland. 
Was  not  this  your  promise,  to  allure  me  to  the  field  of 
Falkirk  ?  And  when  I  had  covered  myself,  as  the 
Lord  Buchan  says,  with  the  blood  of  my  children; 
when  I  asked  my  friend  for  the  crown  I  had  served  for, 
what  was  his  answer  ?  Have  I  nought  to  do  but  to  win 
kmgdoms  to  give  to  you  ?  Thus,  then,  did  a  king,  a 
friend,  break  his  often  repeated  word !  What  wonder 
then  that  I  should  feel  the  indignation  of  a  prince  and  a 
friend,  and  leave  him  to  defenders  whom  he  seemed 
more  highly  to  approve  ?  But  of  treachery,  what  have 
I  shewn  ?  Rather  confidence.  King  Edward  ;  and  the 
confidence  that  was  awakened  in  the  fields  of  Pales- 
tine, brought  me  hither,  to  remonstrate  with  you  to  al- 
low me  to  resume  my  rights,  when  I  might  otherwise, 
by  throwing  myself  into  the  arms  of  my  people,  have 
demanded  them  at  the  head  of  a  victorious  army  !" 

Edward,  who  had  been  prepared  by  the  Cummins  to 
discredit  all  that  Carrick  might  say  in  his  defence, 
turned  with  a  look  of  contempt  towards  him,  and  said, 
"  You  have  been  persuaded  to  act  like  a  madman  j  and 
as  such  characters,  both  yourself  and  your  son  shall 
be  used,  till  I  have  leisure  to  consider  any  rational  evi- 
dence you  may  in  future  have  to  offerin  your  defence." 
"  And  is  this  the  manner,  King  Edward,  that  you  treat 
your  friend  ?" — "  The  vassal,"  replied  Edward,  "  who 
presumes  upon  the  condescension  of  his  prince,  and 
acts  as  if  he  really  were  his  equal,  ought  to  meet  the 
punishment  due  to  such  arrogance.  You  saved  my  life 
on  the  walls  of  Acre  ;  but  you  owed  that  duty  to  the 
son  of  your  liege  lord.  In  the  fervour  of  youth,  I  in- 
considerately rewarded  you  with  my  friendship ;  and 
the  return  is  treason."  As  he  concluded,  he  turned 
from  the  Earl  of  Carrick,  and  a  guard  immediately 
seizing  him,  took  him  to  the  Keep  of  the  castle. 

His  son  who  had  been  sought  in  the  Carrick  quarters, 
and  laid  under  an  arrest,  met  his  father  in  the  guard 
chainber.     Carrick  could  not  speak,  but  motioning  to  be 


/ 


14.8  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

conducted  to  the  place  appointed  for  his  prison,  the  men 
'vvith  equal  silence  led  him  through  a  range  of  apart- 
ments which  occupied  the  middle  story,  and  stopping 
in  the  farthest,  left  him  there  with  his  son.  Bruce,  who 
was  not  so  much  surprised  at  his  own  arrest,  as  at  that 
of  his  father,  beheld  all  in  speechless  astonishment  until 
the  guards  -withdrew  ;  and  then  seeing  Lord  Carrick 
with  a  changing  countenance  throw  himself  on  the  bed, 
(For  it  was  in  his  sleeping  room  that  they  had  left  him  ;) 
he  exclaimed,  "  What  is  the  meaning  of  this,  my  dear 
father?  Has  any  charge  against  me,  brought  suspicion 
on  you  ?'* — "  No,  Robert,  no  ;'*  replied  the  earl,  "  it  is  I 
ivho  have  brought  you  into  this  prison,  and  into  dis- 
;],race ;  disgrace  with  all  the  warld  for  having  tacitly 
surrendered  my  birth-right  to  the  invader  of  my  coun- 
try. Honest  men  abhor,  villains  treat  me  with  contume- 
ly. And  he  for  whom  I  incurred  all  this,  because  I 
would  not,  when  my  eyes  were  opened  to  my  sin,  again 
cmbrue  my  hands  in  the  blood  of  my  country,  Edward 
thrusts  me  from  him  I  You  are  implicated  in  my  crime  ; 
and  for  not  joining  the  Southrons  to  repel  the  Scots 
from  the  royal  camp,  we  are  both  prisoners." 

"  Then,'"  replied  Bruce,  "  he  shall  feel  that  you  have 
a  son  who  has  courage  to  be  what  he  suspects ;  and, 
from  this  hour,  I  proclaim  eternal  enmity  to  the  betray- 
er of  my  father;  to  the  ingrate  who  embraced  you,  to 
destroy  1" 

The  indignation  of  the  youthful  prince  wrought  him 
up  to  so  vehement  a  declaration  of  resolute  and  imme- 
diate hostility,  that  Lord  Carrick  was  obliged  to  give  his 
transports  way ;  but  when  he  saw  that  his  son  had  ex- 
hausted his  denunciations,  though  not  the  determined 
purposes  of  his  soul ;  for  as  he  trod  the  room  with  a 
step  which  seemed  to  shake  the  foundation  on  which 
he  moved  with  the  power  of  his  mighty  mind,  Carrick 
gazed  on  him  with  pride,  yet  grief,  and  sighing  heavily, 
called  him  to  approach  him.  "  Come  to  me,  my  Robertl" 
said  he,  "  and  hear  and  abide  by  the  last  injunctions  of 
your  father;  for,  from  this  bed  I  shall  never  rise  more. 
A  too  late  sense  of  the  injuries  which  I  have  joined  in 
inflicting  on  the  people  I  was  b®rn  to  protect,  and  the 
ingratitude  of  him  for  whom  I  have  offended  my  Gad 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  149 

and  wronged  my  country,  have  broken  my  heart.  I 
shall  die,  Robert,  but  you  will  avenge  me !" — "  May 
God  so  prosper  me  \"  cried  Bruce,  raising  his  arms  to 
heaven.  Carrick  resumed:  "  Attend  to  me,  my  dear 
and  brave  son,  and  do  not  mistake  the  nature  of  my  last 
-wish.  Do  not  allow  the  perhaps  too  forcible  word  I  have 
used,  to  hurry  you  into  any  personal  revenge  on  Edward. 
Let  him  live  to  feel  and  to  regret  the  outrages  he  has 
com^mitted  on  the  peace  and  honour  of  his  too  faithful 
friend.  Pierce  him  on  the  side  of  his  ambition ;  there 
he  is  vulnerable ;  and  there  you  will  heal  while  you 
wound.  This  is  my  revenge,  dear  Robert,  that  you  may 
one  day  have  his  life  in  your  power,  and  that  in  memory 
of  what  I  now  say,  you  Mali  spare  it.  When  I  am  gone, 
think  not  of  private  resentment.  Let  your  aim  be 
the  recovery  of  the  kingdom  which  Edward  rifled 
from  your  fathers.  Join  the  virtuous  and  triumphant 
Wallace,  as  soon  as  you  can  make  your  escape  from 
these  walls.  Tell  him  of  my  remorse,  of  my  fate,  and 
be  guided  wholly  by  his  counsels.  To  insure  the  suc- 
cess of  this  enterprise,  my  son ;  a  success,  to  which  I 
look  as  the  only  means  to  redeem  the  name  I  have  lost;, 
ond  to  inspire  my  separated  spirit  with  courage  to  meet 
the  free-born  souls  of  my  ancestors  ;  urge  not  your  own 
destruction  by  any  premature  disclosure  of  your  reso- 
lutions. For  my  sake,  and  for  your  country's,  suppress 
your  resentment ;  threaten  not  the  King  of  England ; 
provoke  not  the  unworthy  Scottish  lords  who  have 
gained  his  ear  ;  but  bury  all  in  your  own  bosom  till  you 
can  join  Wallace,  and  by  his  arm  and  your  own,  seat 
yourself  firmly  in  the  throne  of  your  fathers.  That  mo- 
ment will  sufficiently  avenge  me  on  Edward  I — and  in. 
that  moment,  Robert,  or  at  least  as  soon  as  circumstan- 
ces will  allow,  let  the  English  ground  which  will  then 
hold  my  body,  give  up  its  dead  I  Remove  me  to  a  Scot- 
tish grave  :  and  standing  over  my  ashes,  proclaim  to 
them  who  might  have  been  my  people,  that  for  eveiy 
evil  I  suffered  to  fall  on  Scotland,  I  have  since  felt  an- 
swering pangs,  and  that  dying,  I  beg  their  forgiveness, 
and  bequeath  them  my  best  blessing,  my  virtuous  son, 
to  reign  in  my  stead  i" 

These  injunctions  to  assert  his  own  honour  and  that 
N  2 


>50  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

of  his  father,  were  rea;clily  sworn  to  by  Bruce,  but  he 
could  not  so  easily  be  made  to  quell  the  imperious  in- 
dignation which  was  precipitating  him  to  immediate 
and  loud  revenge.  The  dying  earl  trembled  before  the 
overwhelming  passion  of  his  son's  wrath  and  grfef. 
Treated  with  outrage  and  contumely,  he  saw  his  father 
stricken  to  the  earth  before  him,  and  he  could  not  bear 
to  hear  of  any  temporizing  with  his  murderers.  But  all 
this  tempest  of  the  soul,  the  wisdom-inspired  argu 
ments  of  the  earl  at  last  becalmed,  but  did  not  subdue. 
He  convinced  his  son's  reason,  by  shewing  him  that 
caution  would  ensure  the  blow  ;  and  that  his  aim  could 
only  be  effected  by  remaining  silent  till  he  could  pub- 
lish his  father's  honour,  evidenced  by  his  own  heroism. 

*'  Do  this,"  added  Carrick,  "  and  I  shall  live  fair  in 
the  memories  of  men.  But  be  violent,  threaten  Edwai  d 
from  these  walls,  menace  the  wretches  who  have  trod- 
den on  the  grey  hairs  of  their  prince,  and  your  voice 
will  be  heard  no  more  :  this  ground  will  drink  your 
blood,  and  blind-judging  infamy  will  for  ever  after  point 
to  our  obscure  graves  I'* 

Such  persuasives  at  last  prevailed  with  Bruce  ;  and 
next  day,  having  written  the  few  hasty  lines  which  Wal- 
lace received  at  Falkirk,  he  intrusted  them  to  his  sena- 
chie,  who  \vas  a  Scot  and  loved  his  countryyto  convey 
safely  to  Scotland.  He  obeyed  by  means  of  a  youth, 
who  having  stolen  from  Annandale  to  see  a  brother 
amongst  Bruce's  followers,  had  now  asked  leave  to  re- 
turn. The  senachie  granted  him  permission,  provided 
he  would  faithfully  and  secretly  deliver  a  packet  into 
the  hands  of  the  Lord  Regent.  This  the  young  man 
executed  with  fidelity. 

Shortly  after  it  was  dispatched,  the  prophecy  of  Lord 
Carrick  was  verified  :  he  was  seized  in  the  night  with 
violent  spasms,  and  died  in  the  arras  of  his  son. 

When  Bruce  related  these  particulars,  his  grief  and 
indignation  became  so  violent,  that  Wallace  was  oblig- 
ed to  enforce  the  dying  injunctions  of  the  father  he  so 
yehemently  deplored,  to  moderate  the  delirium  of  his 
soul.  "  Ah  1"  exclaimed  the  young  earl,  "  I  have  in- 
deed needed  some  friend  to  save  me  from  myself,  some 
one  to  reconcile  me  to  the  Robert  Bi'uce  who  has  so  lon^. 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS,  151 

slept  in  the  fatal  delusions  which  poisoned  his  father 
and  laid  him  low  I  Oh  !  Wallace  !  at  times  I  am  mad, 
I  know  not  whether  this  forbearance  be  not  cowardice. 
I  doubt  my  father  meant  what  he  spoke,  that  he  did  not 
yet  seek  to  preserve  the  life  of  his  son  at  t4ie  expense  of 
his  honour,  and  I  have  been  ready  to  precipitate  my- 
self on  the  steel  of  Edward,  so  that  he  should  but  meet 
the  point  of  mine!" 

Bruce  then  added,  that  in  his  more  rational  -medita- 
tions, it  was  his  design  to  have  attempted  an  escape 
some  time  in  the  course  of  the  two  following  days;  for, 
that  he  understood  a  deputation  of  English  barons 
seeking  a  ratification  of  their  charter,  were  to  arrive  in 
Durham  on  the  morrow  :  the  bustle  attendant  on  theii' 
Imsiness,  would,  he  hoped,  draw  attention  from  him, 
and  afford  him  the  opportunity  he  sought.  *'  Then," 
continued  he,  "I  should  have  made  directly  to  Stir- 
ling ;  and  had  not  Providence  conducted  you  to  me,  I 
might  have  unconsciously  thrown  myself  in  the  midst 
of  enemies.  James  Cummin  is  too  amJjitious  to  have 
allowed  my  life  to  have  passed  unattempted." 

Whilst  he  was  yet  speaking  the  door  of  the  chamber 
burst  open,  and  Bruce's  two  attendants  rushed  into  the 
room  with  looks  aghast.  Bruce  and  Wallace  sta;'ted 
on  their  feet  and  laid  their  hands  on  their  swords.  But 
instead  of  any  thing  hostile  appearing  behind  the  ser- 
vants, the  inebriated  figure  of  the  senachie  staggered 
forward.  The  men,  hardly  awake,  stood  staring  and 
trembling  and  looking  from  the  senachie  to  Wallace  ; 
at  last  one,  extricating  his  terror-struck  tongue  and 
falling  on  his  knees,  exclaimed,  "  Oh  1  blessed  St. 
Andrew  !  is  this  the  senachie  and  his  v/raith."Cy)  Bruce 
perceived  the  mistake  of  his  servants  ;  and  explaining 
'to  them  that  a  travelling  minstrel  had  obliged  the  sena- 
chie by  performing  his  duty,  he  bade  them  retire  to 
rest  and  think  no  more  of  their  alarm. 

The  intoxicated  bard  threw  himself  without  cere- 
mony on  his  pallet  in  the  recess,  vnd  the  servants, 
though  convinced,  still  shaking  with  the  effects  of  their 
fright,  almost  with  tears  entreated  to  be  allowed  to 
bring  their  heather  beds  into  their  lord's  chamber.  To 
deny  them  was  impossible ;  and  all  further  converse 


i53  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

•with  Wallace  that  night  being  put  an  end  to,  a  couch 
■vvas  laid  for  him  in  an  interior  apartment,  and  with  a 
grateful  pressure  of  the  hands  in  which  their  hearts 
silently  embraced,  they  separated  to  repose* 


CHAP.  XIV. 

A  HE  s"ecdnd  matin-bell  had  sounded  from  the  abbey 
before  the  eyes  of  Wallace  opened  from  the  deep  sleep 
which  had  sealed  them.  A  bath  soon  refreshed  him 
from  every  toil ;  and  having  renewed  the  stain  on  his 
face  and  hands  with  the  juice  of  the  nut  w^hich  he  car- 
ried about  him,  and  once  more  covered  his  martial  fi- 
gure and  golden  hair  with  the  minstrel's  cassoc  and 
cowl,  he  rejoined  his  friend. 

Bruce  had  previously  affected  to  consider  the  sena- 
chie  as  much  disordered  by  his  last  night's  excess  ;  and 
ordering  him  to  keep  from  his  presence  for  at  least  a 
day,  desired  that  the  travelling  minstrel  should  be  sent 
to  him,  when  he  rose,  to  supply  his  place. 

The  table  was  spread  when  Wallape  entered,  and  se- 
veral servants  were  in  attendance.  -Bruce,  at  sight  of 
his  friend  hastily  rose  and  would  have  embraced  him, 
so  did  his  comforted  heart  spring  forward  to  meet  him  ; 
but  before  these  people  it  would  have  been  more  than 
imprudent;  and  hailing  him  with  only  one  of  his  love- 
beaming  looks,  he  made  a  sign  to  him  to  sit  down  at 
another  board  near  to  his  own.  While  he  eat,  to  remove 
all  suspicion  from  the  attendants,  (some  of  whom  were 
spies  of  Edward's,  as  well  as  his  own  servants  ;)  he  dis- 
coursed with  Wallace  on  subjects  relative  to  northern 
literature  ;  and  repeated  to  him,  with  bursts  of  admira- 
tion, many  passages  apposite  to  his  own  heroic  senti- 
ments, from  Ossian,  and  other  favourite  bards  of  Scot- 
land. 

The  repast  was  just  finished ;  and  Wallace,  to  main- 
tain his  assumed  character  while  the  servants  were  re- 
moving the  table,  was  tuning  his  harp,  when  the  Earl 
of  Gloucester  entered  the  room.  The  earl  told  Bruce 
that  after  much  searching  oyer  the  castle  for  the  north-= 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  iss 

cyn  minstrel,  the  king's  seneschal  had  at  last  discovered 
that  he  was  in  the  Keep  with  him.  On  this  being  inti- 
mated to  Gloucester,  he  rather  chose  to  come  himself  to 
demand  the  harper  of  his  friend,  than  to  subject  him 
to  perhaps  the  insolence  of  any  of  the  royal  servants. 
The  king  desired  to  hear  him  sing  the  triumph  with 
which  he  had  so  much  pleased  the  queen.  Bruce  turn- 
ed pale  at  this  message,  and  was  opening  his  mouth  to 
utter  a  denial,  when  Wallace,  who  read  in  his  counte- 
nance what  he  was  going  to  say,  and  aware  of  the  con- 
sequences, immediately  spoke,  "  If  my  Lord  Bruce 
will  grant  permission,  I  should  wish  to  comply  with 
the  King  of  England's  request." «'  Minstrel  1"  re- 
plied Bruce,  casting  on  him  a  powerful  expression  of 
what  was  passing  in  his  mind;  "you  know  not,  per- 
haps, that  the  King  of  England  is  at  enmity  with  me, 
and  cannot  mean  well  to  any  that  has  been  my  guest  or 
servant  1  The  Earl  of  Gloucester  will  excuse  your  at- 
tendance in  the  presence .'* 

"  Not  for  my  life,  or  your  minstrel's  !"  replied  the 
earl,  "  the  king  would  suspect  some  mystery  ;  and  per- 
haps this  innocent  man  might  fall  into  peril.  But  as  it 
is,  his  majesty  merely  wishes  to  hear  him  play  and 
sing,  and  I  pledge  you  my  head,  he  shall  return  in 
safety." 

Further  opposition  would  only  have  courted  danger; 
and  Bruce,  with  as  good  a  grace  as  he  could  assume, 
gave  his  consent ;  and  a  page,  who  followed  Glouces- 
ter, taking  up  the  harp,  Wallace,  with  a  glance  at  his 
friend  which  spoke  the  fearless  mind  with  which  he 
ventured  into  the  power  of  his  enemy,  accompanied 
Gloucester  out  of  the  room. 

The  earl  moved  swiftly  forward;  aed  leading  him 
through  a  double  line  of  guards,  v'le  folding  doors  of 
the  royal  apartment  were  thrown  open  by  two  knights  in 
waiting;  and  Wallace  found  himself  in  the  presence.  The 
king  lay,  perforated  v/ith  the  wounds  which  Wallace's 
own  hand  had  given  him,  upon  a  couch  overhung  with  a 
crimson  velvet  canopy,  whose  long  golden  fringes  swept 
the  floor.  His  crown  stood  on  a  cushion  at  his  head ; 
and  his  queen,  the  blooming  Margaret  of  France,  sat. 


154  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

full  of  smiles,  at  his  feet.  The  young  Countess  of 
Gloucester  occupied  the  seat  at  her  side.  ^ 

The  countess,  who  from  indisposition  had  not  been* 
at  court  the  preceding  day,  fixed  her  eyes  on  the  min- 
strel as  he  advanced  into  the  middle  of  the  room  where 
the  page,  by  Gloucester's  orders,  planted  the  harp. 
She  observed  the  manner  of  his  obeisance  to  the  king 
and  queen,  and  to  herself;  and  the  queen  whispering 
her  with  a  smile,  said  as  he  took  his  station  at  the  harp, 
"  Have  your  British  troubadours  usually  such  an  air  as 

that?     Am   I   right;    or  am   I   wrong?" "Quite 

right ;"  replied  the  countess  in  as  lov/  a  voice  ;  "  I  sup- 
pose he  has  sung  of  kings  and  heroes  so  long,  that  he 

cannot  help  assuming  their  step  and  demeanor!" 

"  But  how  did  he  come  by  those  eyes,  I  wonder  ?"  an- 
swered the  queen  ;  "  If  singing  of  Reuther*s  beaniy  gaze 
has  so  richly  endowed  him,  I  must,  by  getting  him  to 
teach  me  his  art,  warble  myself  into  a  complexion  as  fair 
as  any  northern  beauty  !'*  «  But  then  his  must  not  be  the 
subject  of  your  song,''  whispered  the  countess  with  a 
laugh,  " for  methinks  it  is  rather  of  the  Ethiop  hue!" 

During  this  short  dialogue,  which  was  heard  by  none 
but  the  two  ladies,  Edward  was  speaking  with  Glouces- 
ter, and  Wallace  leaned  upon  his  harp. 

"  That  is  enough,"  said  the  king  to  his  son-in-law, 
'*now  let  me  hear  him  play." 

"  The  earl  gave  the  word,  and  Wallace  striking  the 
chords  with  the  master  hand  of  genius,  called  forth 
such  strains,  and  uttered  such  tunes  from  his  divine- 
ly modulated  voice  that  the  king  listened  with  won- 
der, and  the  queen  and  countess  scarcely  allowed  them- 
selves to  breathe.  He  sung  the  parting  of  Reuther  and 
his  bride,  and  their  souls  seemed  to  pant  upon  his 
notes  ;  but  he  changed  his  measure,  and  their  bosoms 
heaved  with  the  enthusiasm  which  spoke  from  his  lips 
and  hand,  for  he  urged  the  hero  to  battle,  he  describ- 
icd  the  conflict,  he  mourned  the  slain,  he  sung  the  glo- 
rious triumph  : — as  the  last  sweep  of  the  harp  rolled  its 
lofty  diapasm  on  the  ear  of  the  king,  the  monarch 
deigned  to  pronounce  him  unequalled  in  his  art.  Ex- 
cess of  delight  so  agitated  the  more  delicate  frames 
pf  the  ladies,  that  while  they  poured  their   encomiums 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  155 

&n  the  minstrel,  they  wiped  the  glistening  tears  from 
their  cheeks,  and  the  queen  approaching  him,  laid  her 
hand  upon  the  harp  and  touching  the  strings  with  a 
light  finger,  said  with  a  sweet  smile—"  You  must  re- 
main with  the  king's  musicians,  and  teach  me  how  to 
charm  as  you  do  V  Wallace  replied  to  this  innocent 
speech  with  a  smile  as  sweet  as  her  own,  and  a  bow. 

The  countess  now  drew  near.  Though  not  much 
older  than  the  youthful  queen,  (being  Edward's  eldest 
daughter,)  she  had  been  married  twice  ;  and  being 
therefore  more  acquainted  with  the  propri42ties  of  life, 
her  compliments  were  uttered  in  a  form  more  befitting 
her.  rank  and  the  supposed  quality  of  the  man  to  whom, 
the  queen  continued  to  pour  forth  her  unrestrained 
praises. 

Edward  desired  Gloucester  to  bring  the  minstrel 
closer  to  him.  Wallace  approached  the  royal  couch. 
Edward  looked  at  him  from  head  to  foot  before  he 
spoke.  Wallace  bore  this  eagle  gaze  with  an  undis- 
turbed countenance  ;  he  neither  withdrew  his  eye  from 
the  king,  nor  did  he  allow  a  conqueror's  fire  to  emit 
from  its  glance. 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  at  length  demanded  Edward,  who, 
surprised  at  the  noble  mien  and  unabashed  carriage  of 
the  minstrel,  had  conceived  some  suspicions  of  his 
quality.  Wallace  saw  what  was  passing  in  the  king's 
mind,  and  by  frankness  determined  to  uproot  all 
doubt,  mildly,  but  fearlessly  answered,  "  A  Scat.''  "  In- 
deed said  the  king,  satisfied  that  no  incendiary  would 
thus  dare  to  proclaim  himself:  "  And  how  durst  you, 
being  of  that  rebel  nation,  venture  into  my  court  ? 
Feared  you  not  that  you  would  have  fallen  a  sacrifice 
to  my  indignation  against  the  mad  leader  who  is  hur- 
rying you  all  to  destruction  V  '*  I  fear  nothing  on 
earth."  Replied  Wallace.  "  This  garb  is  privileged ; 
none  who  respect  the  law  dare  commit  violence  on  a 
minstrel ;  and  against  them  who  have  no  law  but  their 
own  wills,  I  have  this  weapon  to  defend  me."  As 
Wallace  spoke,  he  pointed  to  a  dirk  which  stuck  in  his 
girdle.  "  You  are  a  bold  man,  and  an  honest  man,  I 
believe,"  replied  tlie  king,  <'  and  as  my  queen  desires 


1S6  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

It,  I  order  your  enrolment  in  my  travelling  train  of  mu-.* 
sicians.     You  may  leave  the  presence." 

"  Then    follow  me   to  my    apartment/*  cried  the 
queen.     "  Countess,  you  will  accompany  me  to  see  me^ 
take  my  first  lesson." 

The  page  took  up  the  harp,  and  Wallace  bowing  hisjj 
head  to  the  king, was  conducted  by  Gloucester  to  the' 
anti-room  of  the  queen's  apartments.  The  earl  there 
told  him  that  he  was  returning  to  his  majesty,  but  that 
when  the  queen  dismissed  him,  his  page  would  shew 
him  the  way  back  to  Lord  Carrick.  i 

The  royal  Margaret  herself  opened  the  door,  so  ea- 
ger was  she  to  admit  her  teacher,  and  placing  herself 
at  the  harp,  she  attempted  a  pathetic  passage  of  the 
Triumph^  which  had  particularly  struck  her,  but  she 
was  wrong.  Wallace  was  asked  to  set  her  right,  he 
obeyed.  She  was  quick,  he  clear  in  his  explanations, 
and  in  less  than  an  half  hour,  he  made  her  play  the 
whole  of  that  movement  in  a  manner  that  surprised  and 
entranced  her.  "  Why,  minstrel,'*  cried  she,  taking 
her  hand  from  the  instrument  and  looking  him  up  in 
the  face,  "  either  your  harp  is  enchanted,  or  you  are  a 
magician;  for  I  have  studied  three  long  years  to  play 
the  lute,  and  could  never  bring  forth  any  tone  that  did 
not  make  me  ready  to  stop  my  own  ears.  And  now, 
countess,"  cried  she,  again  running  over  a  few  bars, 
"  did  you  ever  hear  any  thing  so  delightful  ?'* 

"  I  suppose,"  returned  the  Countess,  that  all  your 
former  instructors  have  been  dunces,  and  „  that  this 
Scot  alone  knows  th«  art  they  pretended  to  teach." 
"  Do  you  hear  what  the  countess  says  ?**  exclaimed 
she,  affecting  to  whisper  Wallace,  "  she  will  not  allow 
of  any  spiritual  agency  in  my  wonderfully  awakened 
talent  ;  and  if  you  can  contradict  her,  do,  for  I  want  ve- 
ry much  to  believe  in  fairies,  magicians,  and  all  the  en- 
chanting world  1'* 

Wallace,  with  a  respectful  smile,  answered,  "  I  know 
of  no  spirit  that  has  interposed  in  your  majesty's  fa- 
vour, but  that  of  your  own  genius,  audit  is  m^ore  po- 
tent in  its  effect  than  the  agency  of  all  fairy-land." 
The  queen  looked  at  him  very  gravely,  and  said,"  If 
you  really  think  that  there  are  no  such  things  as  fairies 


THE  SCOTTiSll  CHIEFS. 


and  enchantments,  for  so  your  Avords  would  imply, 
then  every  body  in  your  country  must  have  genius  ; 
for  they  seem  to  be  excellent  in  every  thing.-— Your 
warriors  arc  so  peerlessly  brave  ;  all,  excepting  these 
Scottish  lords,  who  are  such  favourites  with  the  king  ! 
I  wonder  what  he  can  see  in  their  uncouth  faces,  or 
find  in  their  rough  indelicate  conversation  to  admire.  If 
it  had  not  been  for  their  besetting  my  gracious  Edward, 
I  am  sure  he  never  would  have  suspected  any  ill  of  the 
noble  Bruce  1" — "  Queen  Margaret  !"  cried  the  Coun- 
tess of  Gloucester,  giving  her  a  look  of  respectful  re- 
prehension ;  "  had  not  the  minstrel  bettei'  retire  ?" 
The  queen  blushed,  and  recollected  that  she  was  giv^ 
ingtoo  free  a  vent  to  her  sentiments  j  but  she  would 
not  suffer  Wallace  to  withdraw. 

"  I  have  yet  to  ask  you,'*  resumed  she,  "  as  the  war- 
riors of  Scotland  are  so  resistless,  and  their  minstrels 
so  perfect  in  their  art,  whether  all  the  ladies  are  as 
dazzliiigly  beautiful  as  the  Lady  Helen  Mar  ?" 

The  eagerness  with  which  Wallace  grasped  at  any 
tidings  of  her  who  was  so  great  an  object  of  his  enter- 
prise, at  once  disturbed  the  composure  of  his  air  ;  and 
had  the  penetrating  eyesof  the  countess  been  then  di- 
rected towards  him  she  might  have  drawn  some  dan- 
gerous conclusions  from  the  start  he  gave  at  the  men- 
tion of  her  name,  and  from  the  heightened  colour  which 
in  spite  of  his  exertions  to  suppress  all  evident  emo- 
tion, maintained  its  station  on  his  cheek.  "  But  per- 
haps you  have  never  seen  her  ?"  added  the  queen. 
Wallace  replied,  neither  denying  nor  affirming  her 
question,  "  1  have  heard  many  praise  her  beauty,  but 
more  her  virtues." — "Well,  I  am  sorry,"  continued 
her  majesty,  "  since  you  sing  so  sweetly  of  female 
charms,  that  you  have  not  seen  this  wonder  of  Scottish 
ladies  ;  you  have  now  little  chance  of  that  good  fortune, 
for  Earl  J)e  Valence  has  taken  hei  abroad,  intending 
to  marry  her  amidst  the  state  with  which  my  lord  has 
invested  him/'  "  Is  it  to  Guienne ,  he  has  taken  her  ;'' 
inquired  Wallace, "  Yes/'  replied  the  queen,  rather 
pleased  than  offended  at  the  minstrel's  ignorance  of 
court  ceremony,  in  thus  familiarly  presuming  to  put  a 

VOL.  II.  o 


158  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

cpuestion  to  her  ;  "  while  so  near  Scotland  he  could 
not  win  her  to  forget  her  native  country  and  her  fath- 
er's danger,  who  it  seems  was  dying  of  his  wounds 
when  De  Valence  carried  her  away.  And  to  prevent 
bloodshed  between  the  earl  and  Soulis,  who  is  also 
madly  in  love  with  her,  my*  .ver  gracious  Edward  gave 
the  English  lord  a  high  post  in  Guienne,  and  thither 
they  are  gone." 

Before  Wallace  could  answer  this,  and  some  remark 
which  the  queen  laughingly  added  to  her  information, 
the  countess  thought  it  proper  to  give  her  gay  mother* 
in-law  a  more  decisive  reminder  of  decorum,  and  rising, 
she  whispered  something  which  covered  the  youthful 
Margaret  with  blushes.  Her  majesty  rose  directly,and 
pushing  away  the  harp,  said,  "  You  may  leave  the  room,'' 
and  turning  her  back  to  Wallace,  she  walked  away  i 
through  an  opposite  door.  1 


CHAP.  XV. 

Wallace  had  hardly  recounted  the  particulars  of 
his  royal  visit  to  Bruce,  (who  had  anxiously  awaited  his 
return,  and  received  him  with  open  arms,)  when  the 
page,  who  had  attended  him  during  his  interview  with 
the  queen,  again  appeared,  and  presenting  him  with  a 
silk  handkerchief  curiously  coiled  up,  said  that  he  brought 
it  from  her  majesty,  who  supposed  it  was  his,  as  she 
found  it  in  the  room  where  he  had  been  playing  the 
harp.  Wallace  was  going  to  say  that  it  did  not  belong 
to  him,  when  Bruce,  seeing  more  in  this  than  his  friend 
did,  gave  him  a  look  that  directed  him  to  take  the  hand- 
kerchief. Wallace,  without  a  word,  obeyed,  and  the 
boy  withdrew. 

Bruce  smiled,  "There  is  more  in  that  handkerchief 
than  silk,  my  friend  !  queens  send  not  these  embassies 
on  trifling  errands."  While  Bruce  spoke,  Wallace 
unwrapped  it.  "  I  told  you  so  I"  cried  he,  with  a  franlj: 
archness  playing  over  his  before  pensive  features,  and 
pointing  at  the  slip  of  emblazoned  vellum  which  was  now 
unfolded,  "  sha'U  I  look  aside  while  you   peruse   it  ?" 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  159 

•^  Look  on  it,  my  dear  prince,"  replied  Wallace,  "  for 
in  trifles,  as  well  as  things  of  moment,  I  will  have  but 
one  soul  with  you."  The  vellum  was  then  opened,  and 
these  words  presented  themselves. 

"  Presume  not  on  this  condescension.  This  injunc- 
tion  may  be  necessary,  for  the  noble  lady  who  was  pre- 
sent at  our  interview,  tells  me  that  the  men  of  this 
island  are  very  presuming.  But  you  must  redeem  the 
character  of  your  countrymen,  and  not  transgress  on  a 
courtesy  that  only  means  to  say,  I  did  not  leave  you  this 
morning  so  abruptly  out  of  unkindness.  I  write  this, 
because,  always  having  the  countess  with  m.e,  I  shall 
not  even  dare  to  whisper  it  in  her  presence.  Be  always 
faithful  and  respectful,  minstrel,  and  you  shall  ever  £nd 
an  indulgent  mistress. 

"  A  page  will  call  for  you  when  your  attendance  in 
desired." 

Wallace  and  Bruce  looked  on  each  other  with  no  lit- 
tle surprise  at  the  contents  of  this  billet.  Bruce  spoke 
first,  *'  Had  you  vanity,  my  friend,  this  letter  frofti  so 
lovely  and  innocent  a  creature,  might  be  a  gratincation  s 
but  in  our  case,  the  sentiment  it  breathes  is  full  of  dan- 
ger. She  knows  not  the  secret  power  that  impelled 
her  to  write  this,  but  we;lo.  And  I  fear  it  will  point  an 
attention  to  you  which  may  produce  effects  ruinous  to 
our  projects." — "  Then,"  answered  Wallace,  "  our  al- 
ternative is  to  escape  it,  by  getting  away  this  very  night. 
And  as  you  persevere  in  your  resolution  not  to  enter 
Scotland  unaccompanied  by  me,  and  will  share  my  at- 
tempt to  rescue  Lady  Helen  Mar,  we  must  direct  our 
course  immediately  to  the  continent.'' 

"  We  shall  be  the  more  secure  under  a  disguise," 
returned  Bruce,"  I  can  furnish  ourselves  with  priests' 
garments,  for  I  have  in  my  possession  the  wardrobe  of 
the  confessor  who  followed  my  father*s  fortunes,  and 
who,  since  his  death,  has  shut  himself  up  in  the  abbey 
of  St.  Cuthbert  to  pass  the  remainder  of  his  life  in 
prayer  over  his  remains." 

It  was  then  settled  between  the  friends  that  when  it 
became  dark  they  should  dress  themselves  in  the  con= 
fessor's  robes,  and  by  means  of  the  queen  s  signet  which 
she  had  given  to  Wallace  at  the  banquet,  pass  the  guard. 


1 60  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

as  priests  who  had  entered  by  some  other  gate,  and 
\T-ere  come  from  shriving  her  majesty.  Once  without 
the  confines  of  the  city,  they  would  make  swift  progress 
southward  to  the  first  sea  port,  there  to  embark  for 
France,  well  aware  that  the  moment  they  were  missed 
suspicion  would  direct  pursuit  towards,  the  borders  of 
Scotland. 

In  these  arrangements,  and  in  planning  their  future 
movements  in  Guienne  in  relation  to  the  rescue  of  He- 
len, they  passed  several  hours,  and  were  only  interrup- 
ted by  the  arrival  of  a  lute  from  the  queen  for  her  min- 
strel to  tune.  Wallace  obeyed,  and  returning  it  by  the 
page  who  brought  it,  congratulated  himself  that  it  was 
not  accompanied  by  any  new  summons  ;  and  continuing 
to  discourse  with  Bruce  on  the  past,  present,  and  to 
con^e,  tlicir  souls  grev/  more  closely  entwined  as  they 
more  intimately  recognised  their  kindred  natures,  and 
time  moved  on  unmarked  till  the  shadows  of  evening 
deepened  into  night. 

"'"Kow  is  our  hour,'"  cried  Bruce,  starting  on  his 
feet,  "  go  you  into  that  room,  and  array  yourself  in  the 
confessor's  robes,  while  I  call  my  servants  to  dispense 
with  their  usual  nightly  attendance.  In  a  few  minutes 
I  will  follow  you." — Wallace,  with  determination,  and 
liope  before  him,,  gladly  obeyed.  At  this  instant  the 
Earl  of  Gloucester  suddenly  entered,  and  looking  round 
the  room  with  a  disturbed  countenance,  abruptly  said, 
"  Where  is  the  minstrel  ?" — "  Why  V  answered  Bruce, 
with  an  alarm  which  he  in  vain  tried  to  repress  from 
shewing  itself  in  his  face.  Gloucester  advanced  close 
to  him,  "  Is  any  one  within  hearing  ?"— "  No  one.'^ 
*'  Then,"  replied  the  earl,  "  his  life  is  in  danger.  He  is 
suspected  to  be  not  what  he  seems;  and,  I  am  sorry  to 
add,  to  have  presumed  to  breathe  wishes  to  the  queeu 
which  are  of  a  nature  to  insure  a  mortal  punishment.'* 

Bruce  was  so  confounded  v.^ith  this  stoppage  of  all 
their  plans,  and  at  the  imminent  peril  of  Wallace,  that 
he  could  not  speak.  Gloucester  proceeded,  "  My 
dear  Bruce,  from  the  circumstance  of  his  being  with 
you,  1  cannot  but  suppose  that  you  know  more  of  him  than 
you  think  proper  to  disclose.  Whoever  he  may  be, 
whether  he  came  from  France,  or  really  from  Scotlaud 


THE  SCOTTISH  CftlEFS.  161 

as  he  says,  his  life  is'now  threatened  :  and  for  your  sake 
I  come  to  warn  you  that  his  guilt  is  discovered.  A  dou- 
ble guard  is  now  set  round  the  Keep,  so  no  visible  means 
are  left  for  him  to  escape." 

"  Then  what  will  become  of  him  ?'*  exclaimed  Bruce 
in  wild  consternation,  and  forgetting  all  caution  in  dis- 
may for  his  friend,  ''  am  I  to  see  the  bravest  of  men, 
the  saviour  of  my  country,  butchered  before  my  eyes 
by  a  tyrant  ? — I  may  die,  Gloucester,  in  his  defence,  but 
I  will  never  behold  him  fail  1" 

Gloucester  stood  aghast  at  this  disclosure.  He  came 
to  accuse  the  friend  of  Bruce,  that  Bruce  might  be  pre- 
pared to  clear  himself  of  connivance  with  so  treasonable 
a  crime  ;  but  now  that  he  found  this  friend  to  be  Wallace, 
the  preserver  of  his  own  life,  the  restorer  of  his  honour 
at  Berwick,  he  immediately  resolved  to  give  him  free- 
dom.  "  Bruce,"  cried  he,  "when  I  recollect  the  figure 
anddeportmcntof  this  minstrel,  I  am  surprised  that  in 
spite  of  his  disguise  I  did  not  recognise  the  invincible  Re- 
gent of  Scotland  ;  but  now  I  know  him,  he  shall  find 
that  generosity  is  not  confined  to  his  own  breast.  Give 
me  your  word  that  you  will  not  attetnpt  to  escape  the 
arrest  in  which  you  are  nov/  held, until  the  court  leaves 
Durham,  and  I  will  instantly  find  a  way  to  conduct  your 
friend  in  safety  from  the  castle/'  "  I  pledge  you  my" 
word  of  honour;"  cried  Bruce;  "  nay,  I  would  swear 
it  to  you,  noble  Gloucester,  if  an  oath  were  necessary^ 
that  before  suspicion  should  fall  on  your  head,  I  would 
die  in  chains.  A  child  may  keep  me  prisoner  in  Dur- 
ham, when  you  release  my  friend." — "  He  saved  me  at 
Berwick,"  replied  Gloucester,  "  and  I  am  anxious  to 
repay  the  debt  I  owe.  If  he  be  near,  explain  what  has 
happened  in  as  few  w  ords  as  possible,  for  we  must  not 
delay  a  moment,  as  I  left  a  council  with  the  enraged, 
king,  settling  what  secret  death  would  be  horrible 
enough  for  such  a  traitor  to  die." — — ''  When  he  is 
safe,"  answered  Bruce,  "  I  will  attest  his  innocence  to 
you  ;  meanwhile,  rely  on  my  faitti,  that  you  are  giving" 
liberty  to  a  guiltless  man." 

Bruce  hastened  to  Wallace,  who  had  just  completed 
his  disguise.  He  briefly  related  what  had  past;  and 
received  for  answer,  that  he  would  notteave  his  prince, 
o  2 


i62  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

to  the  revenge  of  the  tyrant.  But  Bruce,  urging  that 
the  escape  of  the  one  could  alone  secure  that  of  the 
other,  iuiplored  him  not  to  persist  in  refusing  his  of- 
fered safety,  but  to  make  direct  for  Guienne.  "  I  will 
rejoin  you,'*  added  he,  "  when  the  court  leaves  Dur- 
ham; that  is  my  hour  of  escape;  and  wherever  De 
Valence  is,  there  we  will  rendezvous.  Before  Lady 
Helen's  prison,  we  will  meet  to  set  her  free." 

Wallace  had  hardly  assented  to  this,  when  a  tumul- 
tuous noise  broke  the  silence  of  the  court-yard ;  and 
the  next  moment  they  heard  the  great  iron  doors  of 
the  Keep  thrown  back  on  their  hinges,  and  the  clangor 
of  arms  and  many  voices  in  the  hall.  "  You  are  lost  1" 
exclaimed  Bruce,  with  a  cry  of  despair ;  "  but  we  will 
die  together  1" — At  that  instant  Gloucester  hastened 
into  the  room :  *'  They  are  quicker  than  I  thought  1" 
cried  he,  "  but  follow  me. — Bruce  remain  where  you 
are  : — be  bold,  deny  you  know  any  thing  of  where  the 
minstrel  passes  the  night,  and  all  will  be  well."  As  he 
spoke,  the  feet  of  them  who  were  come  to  seize  Wallace, 
already  sounded  in  the  adjoining  apartment.  Glouces- 
ter turned  into  a  short  gallery,  flew  across  it  holding 
the  Scottish  hero  firmly  by  the  hand,  and  pulling  the 
shaft  of  a  stone  pillar  from  under  its  capital,  and  ap- 
parent adhesion  to  the  wall,  let  himself  and  his  com- 
panion into  a  passage  excavated  in  the  shell  of  the 
building.  The  huge  column  closed  after  them  by  a 
spring,  into  its  former  situation ;  and  the  silent  pair 
descended  by  a  very  long  flight  of  stone  steps  to  a 
square  dungeon  without  any  apparent  outlet;  but  the 
earl  found  one  by  raising  a  flat  stone  marked  with  an 
elevated  cross,  and  again  they  penetrated  lower  into 
the  bosom  of  the  earth  by  a  gradually  declining  path 
till  they  found  themselves  on  level  ground.  "  This,'* 
said  Gloucester,  for  the  first  time  speaking  since  he 
commenced  the  escape,  "  is  a  vaulted  passage  which 
reaches  in  a  direct  line  to  Fincklay  Abby.(^)  It  was 
discovered  to  me  ten  years  ago,  by  my  uncle,  the  then 
abbot  of  that  monastery.  He  explored  it  with  me,  to 
satisfy  my  curiosity ;  I  having  previously  engaged  ne- 
ver to  betray  the  secret,  as  he  told  me  that  none  but 
the   Bishop  of  Durham,  and  the   Abbot  of  Fincklay, 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS,  i  63 

were  ever  made  acquainted  with  its  existence.  Since 
my  coming  hither  this  time,  (which  was  as  escort  to 
the  young-  queen,  not  to  bear  arms  against  Scotland  ;) 
I  one  day  took  it  into  my  head  to  revisit  this  recess  , 
a^d  happily  for  the  gratitude  I  owe  to  you,  I  found  all 
as  I  had  left  it  in  my  uncle's  lifetime.  Without  any 
breach  of  my  truth  to  the  abbot  (for  to  do  good,  being  the 
first  lav/  of  God,  it  supersedes  all  other  engagements ;) 
I  lay  similar  injunctions  of  secrecy  upon  you,  both 
for  the  sake  of  my  word  to  the  dead,  and  my  honour 
with  Edward,  whose  wrath  would  fall  upon  me  in  the 
most  fearful  shapes  should  he  ever  know  that  I  deli- 
vered his  vanquisher  as  well  as  my  own,  out  of  his 
hands.  But,  noble  Wallace,  though  the  enemy  of  my 
king's  ambition,  you  are  the  friend  of  mankind.  You 
were  my  benefactor,  and  I  should  deserve  the  rack 
could  I  suffer  one  hair  of  your  head  to  fall  with  vio- 
lence to  the  ground.'* 

Wallace,  with  answering  frankness,  declared  his 
sense  of  the  earl's  generous  gratitude  ;  and  earnestly 
commended  the  young  Bruce  to  his  watchful  friend- 
ship. "  The  brave  impetuosity  of  his  mind,"  continu- 
ed Wallace,  "  at  times  overthrows  his  prudence,  and 
leaves  him  exposed  to  dangers  which  a  little  virtuous 
caution  might  avoid  Dissimulation  is  a  baseness  that 
I  should  shudder  at  seeing  him  practice :  but  when 
the  flood  of  indignation  swells  his  bosom,  then  tell 
him  that  I  conjure  him,  g?i  the  lift  of  his  dearest  wishes-, 
to  be  silent !  The  storm  which  threatens  him  will  blow 
over;  and  the  powev  who  guides  through  perils  thosa 
who  trust  in  it,  will  ordain  that  we  shall  meet  again  T' 

Gloucester  replied,  "  What  you  say,  I  will  repeat 

to  Bruce I  know  his  claims.     I  am  too  sensible  how 

my  royal  father-in-law  has  trampled  on  his  rights  ;  and 
should  I  ever  see  him  restored  to  the  throne  of  his  an- 
cestors, I  could  not  but  acknowledge  the  hand  of  hea- 
ven in  the  event.  Without  any  treason  to  my  own 
king,  I  might  then  rejoice  in  the  restitution  made  to 
yours,  as  I  now  would  not  do  any  thing  to'  impede  your 
course  ;  for,  in  letting  justice  have  its  way,  1  obey  the 
King  of  Kings.  I  should  not  even  have  bound  our 
iriend  to  remain  a  prisoner  during  Edward's  sojourn 


!64  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

at  Durham,  were  I  not  certain,  that  from  my  acknow- 
ledged attachment  to  him,  (should  he  escape  at  pre- 
sent,) my  enemies  would  persuade  the  king  that  I  had 
effected  his  release.  The  result  would  be  my  dis- 
grace ;  and  a  broken  heart  to  her  who  has  raised  me 
by  her  generous  love,  from  the  rank  of  a  private  gen- 
tleman, to  that  of  a  prince." 

Gloucester  then  informed  Wallace,  that  about  an 
hour  before  he  came  to  alarm  Bruce  for  his  safety,  he 
was  summoned  by  Edward  to  attend  him  immediately. 
When  he  obeyed,  he  found  Soulis  standing  by  the  roy- 
al couch,  while  his  majesty  was  talking  with  violence. 
At  sight  of  Gloucester  he  beckoned  him  to  advance, 
and  striking  his  hand  fiercely  on  a  packet  he  held,  he 
exclaimed,  "  Here,  my  son,  behold  the  record  of  your 
father's  shame  !  Of  a  king  of  England  dishonoured  by 
a  slave  !"  As  he  spoke,  he  dashed  the  packet  from  him. 
Gloucester  took  it  up.  Soulis  answered,  "  Not  a  slave, 
my  lord  and  king :  can  you  not  see  through  the  ill-adapt- 
ed disguise,  the  figure  and  mien  of  nobility  ?  He  is  some 
foreign  lover  of  your  bride's,  come — "  "  Enough  1" 
interrupted  the  king,  "  I  know  I  am  dishonoured  ;  but 
the  villain  shall  die. — Read  the  letter,  Gloucester,  and 
say  what  shall  be  my  revenge  ! 

Gloucester  opened  the  vellum,  and  read  in  the 
queen's  hand. 

"  Gentle  minstrel !  My  lady  countess  tells  me  I  must 
not  see  you  again.  Were  you  old  or  ugly,  as  mostbarcls 
are,  1  might,  she  says  ;  but  being  young,  it  is  not  for  a 
queen  to  smile  upon  one  of  your  calling.  She  bade 
me  remember  that  when  I  smiled,  you  smiled  too; 
and  that  you  asked  me  questions  unbecoming  your  de- 
gree.— Pray  do  not  do  this  any  more  ;  though  I  see  no 
harm  in  it,  and  used  to  smile  as  I  liked  when  I  was  in 
France.  Oh  I  if  it  were  not  for  those  I  love  best  who 
are  now  in  England,  I  v/ish  I  were  there  again  !  and 
you  would  go  with  me,  gentle  minstrel,  would  you  not? 
And  you  would  teach  me  to  sing  so  sweetly  !  I  would 
tb"n  never  talk  with  you,  but  always  speak  in  song: 
how  pretty  that  would  be  ;  and  then  we  should  be  from 
under  the  eyes  of  this  harsh  countess.  My  ladies  in 
France  would  let  you  come  in,  and  stay  as  long  with 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS,  1^5 

me  as  I  pleased.  But  as  I  cannot  go  back  again  I  Vv  ill 
make  myself  as  happy  here  as  I  can,  and  in  spite  of  the 
countess,  who  rules  me  more  as  if  she  were  my  step- 
mother, than  I  hers  ;  but  then,  to  be  sure,  she  is  a  few 
years  older. 

"  I  will  see  you  this  very  evening,  and  your  sweet 
harp  shall  sing  all  my  heart  aches  to  sleep.  My  French 
lady  of  honour  will  conduct  you  secretly  to  my  apart- 
ments. I  am  sure  you  are  too  honest  to  guess  even  at 
what  the  countess  says  you  might  fancy  when  I  smile  on 
you.  Smile  as  often  as  I  will,  or  frown  when  she  makes 
me,  I  shall  still  think  of  you  the  same !  But  as  she  says 
you  must  never  come  to  see  me  again,  she  will  never 
know  whether  I  smile  or  frown ;  but  this  I  promise 
you,  that  all  my  smiles  shall  be  yours,~.-all  my  frowns 
hers. — Genile  minstrel,  presume  not,  and  ever  shall 
you  find  an  indu:r;ent  mistress  in  M 

P.  S.  At  the  last  vespers  to-night,  my  page  shall 
come  for  you.'* 

Gloucester  knew  the  queen's  hand-writing,  and  not 
feeing  able  to  contradict  that  this  letter  was  hers,  he 
inquired  how  it  came  into  his  majesty's  hands.  "I 
found  it,"  replied  Soulis,  "  as  I  was  crossing  the  court- 
yard ;  it  lay  on  the  ground  j  and  I  suppose  had  been 
accidentally  dropped  by  tHe  queen's  messenger." 

Gloucester  wishing  to  extenuate  as  much  as  possible 
for  the  young  queen's  sake,  whose  youth  and  inexpe- 
rience he  pitied,  suggested  that  from  the  simplicity 
with  which  the  note  was  written,  from  her  innocent  re- 
ferences to  the  minstrel's  profession,  she  merely  ad- 
dressed him  in  that  character.  Every  line  in  the  billet 
seemed  to  him  to  bear  testimony  that  the  minstrel  was 
no  other  than  he  appeared,  and  that  her  majesty  only 
wished  to  indulge  her  passion  for  music. 

"  If  he  be  oniy  a  base  itinerant  harper,"  replied  the 
king,  "the  deeper  is  my  disgrace;  for  if  a  passion  of 
another  kind  than  music,  be  not  portrayed  in  every 
word  of  this  artful  letter,  1  never  read  a  woman's  heart  1* 
The  king  continued  to  comment  on  the  fatal  scroll 
with  the  lynx  eye  of  jealousy,  and  loading  her  name 
with  every  opprobrium,  Gloucester  inwardly  thanked 
heaven  that  none  other  than  Soulis  and  himself  were 


166  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

present  to  hear  Edward  fasten  such  foul  dishonour  on 
his  queen.  The  gene~rous  earl  could  not  find  more  ar- 
guments in  her  favour  with  which  to  assuage  the 
mounting  ire  of  her  husband.  She  might  be  innocent 
of  actual  guiltj  or  indeed  of  being  aware  that  she  had 
conceived  any  wish  that  might  lead  to  it ;  but,  certainly, 
more  than  a  queen*s  usual  interest  in  a  poor  wandering 
minstrel  was,  as  the  king  said,  evident  in  every  line. 
Gloucester  remaining  silent.  Edv/ard  believed  him 
convinced  of  the  queen's  crime,  and  being  too  wrathful 
to  think  of  caution,  he  sent  for  the  bishop  and  others  of 
his  lords,  to  whom  he  vented  his  injury  and  indigna- 
tion. But  all  were  not  inclined  to  be  of  the  same  opin- 
ion with  their  sovereign;  some  thought  with  Glouces- 
ter ;  others  deemed  her  quite  innocent,  that  the  letter 
was  a  forgery ;  and  the  rest  adopted  the  severer  refer- 
ences of  her  husband  :  but  all  united,  (whoever  were  de- 
termined to  spare  the  queen,)  in  recommending  the 
immediate  apprehension  and  execution  of  the  minstrel. 
— "  It  is  not  fit,"  cried  Soulis,  **  that  the  man  who  has 
evcH  been  suspected  of  invading  our  monarch's  honour, 
should  live  another  hour.'* 

This  sanguinary  sentence  was  acceded  to,  with  as 
little  remorse  by  the  whole  assembly  as  they  would 
have  condemned  a  tree  to  the  axe.  Earl  Percy,  who 
had  given  his  vote  for  the  death  of  the  minstrel  more 
from  inconsideration,  than  that  thirst  of  blood  which 
stimulated  the  voices  of  Sotilis  and  the  Cummins,  pro- 
posed, as  he  believed  the  queen  innocent,  that  the 
Countess  of  Gloucester  and  the  French  lady  of  honour 
should  be  examined  relative  to  the  circumstances 
mentioned  in  the  letter. 

The  king  immediately  :?rdered  their  attendance. 

Th©  royal  Jane  of  Acre  appeared  at  the  first  sum- 
mons, with  an  air  of  truth  and  freedom  from  alarm, 
which  convuictd  every  one,  as  far  as  her  evidence 
went,  of  the  Innocence  of  the  queen.  Her  testimony 
was,  that  she  believed  the  minstrel  to  be  other  than  he 
seemed  ;  but  that  she  was  certain,  from  the  conversa- 
tion which  the  queen  had  held  with  her  after  the  bi- 
shop's feast,  that  this  wc.s  the  first  time  in  which  she 
had  ever  seen  him ;  and  that  she  was  ignorani  of  his 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS,  16/ 

real  rank.  On  being  questioned  by  the  bishop,  the 
Countess  acknowledged  that  her  majesty  had  praised 
his  figure  as  well  as  his  singing ;  <**  yet  not  more,"  add- 
ed she,  "  than  she  afterwards  did  to  the  king,  when 
she  awakened  his  curiosity  to  send  for  him."  Her 
highness  continued  to  reply  to  the  interrogatories  put 
to  her,  by  saying,  that  it  was  in  the  king's  presence 
she  first  saw  the  minstrel,  and  then  she  thought  his 
demeanor  much  above  his  situation  ;  but  when  he  ac- 
companied the  queen  and  herself  into  her  majesty's 
apartments,  she  had  an  opportunity  to  observe  him  nar- 
rowly, as  the  queen  engaged  him  in  conversation ;  and 
by  his  answers,  questions,  and  easy,  yet  respectful  de- 
portment, she  was  convinced  that  he  was  not  what  he 
appeared. 

"  And  why,  Jane,'^  asked  the  king,  "  did  you  not  im- 
part these  suspicions  to  your  husband  or  to  me  ?"  "Be- 
cause," replied  she,  "  remembering  that  my  interfer- 
ence on  a  certain  public  occasion,  brought  my  late  bus- 
band  Clare,  under  your  majesty's  displeasure ;  on  my 
marriage  with  Monthemer,  I  made  a  solemn  vow  before 
my  confessor,  never  again  to  offend  in  the  like  manner. 
— And  besides,  the  countenance  of  this  stranger  was  so 
ingenuous,  and  his  sentiments  so  natural  and  honoura- 
ble, that  I  could  not  suspect  he  came  on  any  disloyal 
errand." 

"  Lady,"  asked  one  of  the  older  lords,  "  if  you  thought 
so  well  of  the  queen  and  of  this  man,  why  did  you  cau- 
tion her  against  her  smiles,  and  deem  it  necessary  to 
persuade  her  not  to  see  him  again  ?" 

The  countess  blushed  at  this  question,  but  replied  ; 
"  Because  I  saw  that  the  minstrel  was  a  gentleman:  he 
possessed  a  noble  figure,  and  a  handsome  face  in  spite 
of  his  Egyptian  skin  ;  and  like  most  young  gentlemen, 
he  might  be  con'^icious  of  these  advantages,  and  attribute 
the  artless  approbation,  the  innocent  smiles  of  my  gra- 
cious queen,  to  a  source  more  flattering  to  his  yanity, 
I  have  known- many  lords  not  far  from  your  majesty, 
make  similar  mistakes  on  as  little  grounds ;"  added 
she,  looking  disdainfully  towards  some  of  the  younger 
nobles;  " and  therefore,  to  prevent  such  insolence,  I 
desired  his  final  dismission." 


168  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

"  Thank  you,  my  dear  Jane,"  replied  the  kin.^,  reia^L" 
ing  from  the  severity  of  his  mood  ;  "  you  ahnost  per- 
suade me  of  Margaret's  innocence."  "  Believe  it  sire  !'* 
cried  she  with  animation;  "whatever  romantic  thought- 
lessness her  youth  and  inexperience  may  have  led  her 
into,  I  pledge  my  life  on  her  virtue." 

"  First  let  us  hear  what  that  French  woman  has  to 
say  to  the  assignation  V  exclaimed  Soulis,  whose  pol- 
luted heart  could  not  suppose  the  existence  of  true  pu- 
rity ;  and  whose  cruel  disposition  exulted  in  torturing 
and  death  ;  "  question  her ;  and  then  her  majesty  may 
have  full  acquittal  1" 

Again  the  brow  of  Edward  was  overcast.  All  the 
Sends  of  jealousy  once  more  tugged  at  his  heart;  and 
ordering  the  Countess  of  Gloucester  to  withdraw,  he 
commanded  the  Baroness  de  Pontoise  to  be  brought  in- 
to the  presence. 

When  she  saw  the  king's  threatening  looks,  and  be- 
held the  fearful  expression  which  shot  from  every 
surrounding  countenance,  she  shrunk  with  terror.  For 
her  heart,  long  hacknied  in  secret  gallantries,  from  the 
same  inward  whisper  which  proclaimed  to  Soulis  that 
the  queen  was  guilty,  could  not  believe  but  that  it  had 
been  the  confident  of  an  illicit  passion  ;  and  therefore, 
though  she  knew  nothing  really  bad  of  her  unhappy 
mistress,  yet  fancying  that  she  did,  she  stood  trembling 
before  the  royal  tribunal  with  the  air  and  aspect  of  a 
culprit. 

"  Repeat  to  me,"  demanded  the  king,  "  or  answer  it 
with  your  head,  all  that  you  know  of  Queen  Margaret's 
iiitimacy  with  the  man  who  calls  himself  a  minstrel." 

The  French-woman,  at  these  words,  which  were  de- 
livered in  a  tone  that  seemed  the  sentence  of  her  deiith, 
fell  on  her  knees,  and  in  a  burst  of  terror  exclaimed, 
"  Sire,  1  will  reveal  all — if  your  majesty  will  grant  me 
a  pardon  for  having  too  faithfully  served  my  mistress  !" 

"  Speak!  speak  1"  cried  the  king  with  desperate  im- 
patience ;  "  I  swear  to  pardon  you,  even  if  you  have 
joined  in  a  conspiracy  against  my  life  ;  but  speak  the 
truth,  and  all  the  truth,  that  judgment  without  mercy 
may  fall  on  the  guilty  heads  !" 

"  Then  I  obey,"  answered  the  baroness.— *'' Foul  be- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  169 

u  aver  I''  half-exclaimed  Gloucester,  turning  disap- 
pointed away ;  "O  !  what  it  is  to  be  vile,  and  to  trust  the 
vile  ! — But  virtue  will  not  be  auxiliary  to  vice — and  so 
wickedness  falls  by  its  own  agents !" 

The  baroness,  being  raised  from  her  kneeling  posi- 
tion by  Soulis,  began : 

"  The  only  time  I  ever  heard  of,  or  saw  this  man  to 
my  knowledge,  was  when  h^was  broui^ht  to  play  be- 
fore my  lady  at  the  bishop's  banquet;  I  did  not  much 
observe  him,  being  engaged  in  conversation  at  the 
other  end  of  the  room,  so  I  cannot  say  whether  I  might 
not  have  seen  him  in  France ;  for  many  noble  lords 
adored  the  Princess  Margaret,  though  she  appeared 
to  frown  upon  them  all.  But  1  must  confess,  that  when 
I  attended  her  majesty's  disrobing  after  the  feast,  she 
put  to  me  so  many  questions  about  what  I  thought  of 
the  minstrel  who  had  sung  and  played  so  divinely,  that 
I  began  to  think  her  admiration  too  great  to  have  been 
awakened  by  a  mere  song.  And  then  she  asked  me  if 
i\  king  could  have  a  nobler  air  than  he  had;  and  she 
laughed  and  said  she  would  send  your  majesty  to  school 
to  learn  of  him." 

"Damnable  traitorcss  !"  exclaimed  the  king The 

baroness  paused,  and  retreated  from  before  the  sudden 
fury  which  flashed  from  his  eyes. — "  Go  on  !"  cried  he, 
"  hide  nothing,  that  my  vengeance  may  lose  nothing  of 
its  aim  1" 

She  proceeded.  /'Her  majesty  then  talked  of  his 
beautiful  eyes  ;  so  blue,  she  said,  so  tender,  yet  proud  in 
their  looks ;  and  only  a  minstrel  !* De  Pontoise,  added  she, 
-<:an  you  explain  that  ?  I,  being  rather  perhaps  too  well 
leanied  in  the  idle  tales  of  our  troubadours,  heedlessly- 
answered,  '  Perhaps  he  is  some  king  in  disguise,  just 
come  to  look  at  your  charms,  and  go  away  again  i'  She 
laughed  much  at  this  conceit,  said  he  must  be  one  of  Pha- 
raoh's race  then,  and  that  had  he  not  such  white  teeth 
his  complexion  would  be  intolerable.  I  being  pleased  to 
see  her  majesty  in  such  spirits,  thinking  no  ill,  and  be- 
ing in  a  rallying  mxood,  answered,  '  I  read  once  of  a  cer- 
tain Spanish  lover  who  went  to  the  court  of  Tunis  to 
carry  off  the  king's  daughter ;  and  he  had  so  black  a  face 
that  none  suspected  him  to  be  other  than  the  Moorish 

VOL.  II.  p 


iro  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

prince  of  Granada;  -when,  lo  !  and  behold  1  one  day  ii; 
a  pleasure  party  on  the  sea,  he  fell  over-board,  and 
came  up  with  the  fairest  face  in  the  world,  and  presently 
acknowledged  himself  to  be  the  christian  King  of  Cas- 
tle 1'  The  queen  laughed  at  this  story,  but  not  answering 
me,  went  to  bed. — Next  morning  when  I  entered  her 
chamber,  she  received  me  with  even  more  gayety,  and 
putting  aside  my  hair  under  my  coiffure,  said,  "  Let  me 
sec  if  I  can  find  the  devil's  mark  here  1"  *  What  is  the 
matter?'  I  asked,  'Does  your  majesty  take  me  for  a 
witch  ?'  '  Exactly  so,'  she  replied,  '  for  a  little  sprite 
told  me  last  night,  that  all  you  said  was  true.'  And  then 
she  began  to  tell  me,  with  many  smiles,  that  she  had 
dreamt  that  the  minstrel  was  the  very  prince  of  Portu- 
gal whom,  unseen,  she  had  refused  for  the  king  of  Eng- 
land, and  that  he  gave  her  a  harp  set  with  jewels.  She 
then  went  to  your  majesty,  and  I  saw  no  more  of  her 
till  she  sent  for  me  late  in  the  evening.  She  seemed  ve- 
ry angry.—-'  You  are  faithful,'  said  she  to  me,  '  and  you 
know  me,  De  Pontoise,  you  know  me  too  proud  to  de- 
grade myself,  and  too  high-minded  to  submit  to  tyran- 
ny. The  Countess  of  Gloucester,  with  persuasions  too 
much  like  commands,  will  not  allow  me  to  see  the 
minstrel  any  more.'  She  then  declared  her  determina- 
tion that  she  would  see  him,  that  she  vrould  feign  her- 
self sick,  and  he  should  come  and  sing  to  her  when  she 
was  alone;  and  that  she  was  sure  he  Vvas  too  modest  to 
presume  on  her  condescension.  I  said  something  to  dis- 
suade her,  but  she  over-ruled  me ;  and  shame  to  my- 
self, I  coPiSented  to  assist  her. — She  embraced  me,  and 
gave  me  a  letter  to  convey  to  him,  vvhich  I  did  by  slip- 
ing  it  beneath  the  ornaments  of  the  handle  of  her  lute, 
which  I  sent  as  an  excuse  for  the  minstrel  to  tune — 
It  was  to  acquaint  him  with  her  intentions,  and  this 
night  he  was  to  have  visited  her  apartm-ents." 

It  was  immediately  apprehended  by  the  council  that 
this  was  the  letter  vvhich  Soulis  found. 

"  And  is  this  all  you  know  of  the  affair  ?"  inquired 
Percy,  seeing  that  she  made  a  pause.  "  And  enough 
too  1"  cried  Soulis,  "  to  blast  the  most  vaunted  chastitj^ 
in  Christendom.'* 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  in 

'*  Take  the  woman  home,"  cried  the  king;  "  send 
her  to  France,  and  never  let  me  see  her  face  more  1" 
The  baroness  withdrew  in  terror,  and  Edvv-ard  calling 
on  Sir  Piers  Gavcston,  toki  him  to  head  the  double 
guard  that  was  to  surround  the  Keep  which  held  the 
object  of  liis  officious  introduction ;  and  taldng  a  file  of 
men  with  him,  q:o  in  person  to  bring  the  minstrel  to 
receive  his  sentence.  "For,"  cried  the  king,  "be  he 
prince  or  peasant,  I  will  see  him  hanged  before  my 
eyes  ;  and  then,  return  his  wanton  paramour,  branded 
With  infamy,  to  her  disgraced  family  V* 

Sovilis  now  suggested,  tlmt  as  the  delinquent  was  to 
be  found  with  Bruce,  most  likely  that  young  nobleman 
was  privy  to  his  dcsif^-ns.— "  We  shall  see  to  him  here- 
after," replied  the  king,  "  meanwhile,  look  that  I  am 
obeyed." 

The  moment  this  order  passed  the  king's  lips,  Glou- 
cester, now  not  doubting  the  queen's  guilt,  hastened  to 
warn  Bruce  of  what  had  passed,  that  he  might  separate 
himself  from  the  crime  of  the  man  he  had  protected ; 
but  finding  that  the  accused  was  no  other  than  the  uni- 
versally feared,  universally  beloved  and  generous  Wal- 
lace, all  other  considerations  were  lost  in  the  desire  of 
delivering  him  from  the  impending  danger.  He  knew 
the  means,  and  he  did  not  hcF/itate  to  employ  them. 

During  the  recital  of  this  narrative,  Gloucester  naF- 
jowly  observed  his  auditor ;  and  by  the  ingenuous 
bursts  of  his  indignation,  and  the  horror  he  evinced  at 
the  crime  he  was  suspected  of  having  committed,  the 
earl  was  fully  convinced  that  the  noble  Scot  had  not 
possessed  one  wish  with  regard  to  the  queen,  that  an- 
gels might  not  have  registered.  This  ascertained,  he 
now  saw  that  her  sentiments  of  him  had  not  gone  far- 
ther than  a  childish  admiration,  easily  to  be  pardoned 
in  an  innocent  creature  hardly  more  than  sixteen. 

"  See,"  cried  Wallace,  "  the  power  that  lies  with 
the  describer  of  mictions  !  The  chaste  mind  of  your 
countess,  saw  nothing  in  the  conduct  of  the  queen  but 
thoughtless  simplicity.  The  contaminated  heart  of  the 
Baroness  de  Pontoise  descried  passion  in  every  word, 
wantonness  in  every  movement;  and  judging  of  her 
mistress  by  herself,  she  has  wrought  this  mighty  ruin. 


172  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

How  then  docs  it  become  virtue  to  admit  the  virU"iou:i 
only  to  her  intimacy;  for  the  vicious  make  her  to  be 
seen  in  their  own  colours  !  Impress  your  king  with 
this  self-evident  conclusion.  And  were  it  not  for  en- 
dangering the  safety  of  Bruce,  the  hope  of  my  country, 
I  myself  would  return  and  stake  my  life  on  proving  the 
innocence  of  the  Queen  of  England. — But  if  a  letter, 
with  my  word  of  honour,  could  convince  the  king — " 

"  I  accept  the  offer,"  interrupted  Gloucester  ;  "  I  am 
"oo  warmly  the  friend  of  Bruce  ;  too  truly  grp^teful  to 
voUjto  betray  either  into  danger;  but  from  Sunderland, 
.vhether  I  recommend  you  {p  go,  and  to  embark  for 
-onie  French  port,  write  the  declaration  you  mention? 
:ind  enclose  it  to  me.     This  means  of  clearing  the  in- 
ured Margaret,  makes  me  alter  itiy  first  intentions  : 
Bruce  shall  be  set  at  liberty  before  we  leave  Durham ; 
uid  as  soon  as  he  is  beyond  the  reach  of  harm   from 
Sngland,  I  will  contrive  that  the  king  shall  have  your 
etter  without  suspecting  by  \yhat  channel;  and  then  I 
"list  that  all  will  be  well.*' 

During  this  discourse,  they  passed  on  through  the 
vaulted  passage,  till  arriving  at  a  wooden  crucifiK 
\vhich  marked  the  halfway,  and  boundary  of  the  domain 
of  Durham,  Gloucester  stopped: — "I  must  not  go 
farther. — Should  I  prolong  my  stay  from  the  castle 
during  the  search  for  you,  suspicion  may  be  awakened. 
You  must,  therefore,  now  proceed  alone. — Go  straight 
forward,  and  at  the  extremity  of  the  vault  you  will  find 
u  flag-stone,  suriTiounted  like  the  one  with  a  cross  by 
which  w^e  descended  ;  raise  it,  and  it  will  let  you  into 
ihe  cemetery  of  the  Abbey  of  Fincklay.  One  end  of 
this  burying-plac;p,  for  some  religious  reason  that  I  do 
not  understand,  is  always  open  to  the  east.  Thence 
you  may  emerge  to  the  open  world ;  and  may  it,  in  fu- 
ture, noble  Wallace,  treat  you  ever  according  to  your 
unequalled  merits.     Farewell  I'* 

Wallace  bade  him  adieu  with  similar  expressions  of 
esteem,  and  exchanging  the  warm  embraces  of  friend- 
ship, the  earl  turned  to  retrace  his  steps  ;  and  Wallace 
alone,  pursued  his  way  through  the  rayless  darkness, 
•with  a  swift  pace  towards  Uic  Fincklay  extremity  of 
the  vault. 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  US 


CHAP.    XVL 

W  ALLACE  having  emerged  from  his  subterranean 
journey,  according  to  the  advice  of  Gloucester  made 
direct  to  Sunderland,  paid  arrived  there  about  day- 
break.* A  vessel  belonging  to  France  (which,  since  the 
marriage  of  Margaret  with  Edward,  had  been  at  amity 
with  England  as  v/ell  as  Scotland)  was  there,  waiting 
the  first  favourable  wind  to  set  sail  for  Dieppe.  Wal- 
lace secured  a  passage  in  her ;  and  going  on  board., 
wrote  his  promised  letter  to  Edward.— It  ran  thus  : 

**  This  testimony,  signed  by  my  hand,  is  to  assure 
Edward  King  of  England,  upon  the  word  of  a  knight, 
that  Margaret  Queen  of  England,  is  in  every  respect 
guiltless  of  the  crimes  alleged  against  her  by  the 
Lord  Soulis,  and  sworn  toby  the  Baroness  de  Pontoise. 
I  came  to  the  court  of  Durham  on  an  errand  connected 
with  my  country;  and  that  I  might  be  unknown,  I  as- 
sumed the  disguise  of  a  minstrel.  By  accident  I  en- 
countered Sir  Piers  Gaveston,  and  ignorant  that  I  v,a* 
other  than  I  seemed,  he  introduced  me  at  the  royal 
banquet.  It  was  there  I  first  saw  her  majesty. — And  I 
never  had  that  honour  but  three  times  :  one  I  have 
named ;  the  second  was  in  your  presence  ;  and  the 
third  and  last,  in  her  apartments,  to  v/hich  you  your- 
self  saw  me  withdraw.  The  Countess  of  Gloucester 
was  present  the  whole  time  ;  and  to  her  highness  I  ap- 
peal. The  queen  saw  in  me  only  a  minstrel :  on  my 
art  alone  as  a  musician  was  her  favour  bestowed  ;  and 
by  expressing  it  with  an  ingenuous  warmth,  which  none 
other  than  an  innocent  heart  vv^ould  have  dared  display, 
she  has  thus  exposed  herself  to  the  animadversions  oi 
libertinism,  and  to  the  false  representations  of  a  terror- 
struck,  because  v/orthless,  friend. 

I  have  escaped  the  snare  which  her  enemies  had  laid 
for  me  : — and  for  her  sake,  for  the  sake  of  truth,  and 
your  own  peace.  King  Edward,  I  declare  before  the 
searcher  of  all  hearts,  and  before  the  world,  in  whose 
esteem  I  hope  to  live  and  die ;  That  your  wife  is  inno- 
eent !  And  should  I  ever  meet  the  man  who,  after  this 
declaratioDj  dares  to  unite  her  name  to  mine  ia  at^ie  of 
p  ^ 


ri  The  SCOTTISH  chiefs. 

infamy,— by  the  power  of  truth  I  swear,  that  I  will  make 
him  write  a  recantation  with  his  blood.  Pure  as  a  vir- 
gin's chastity  is,  and  shall  ever  be,  the  honour  of  Wil- 
liam Wallace." 

This  letter  he  enclosed  in  one  to  the  Earl  of  Glou- 
cester, and  having  dispatched  his  packet  by  a  hired 
messenger,  to  Durham,  he  gladly  saw  a  bvisk  Avind 
blow  up  from  the  north-west.  The  ship  weighed  an- 
chor, and  under  a  fair  sky  cut  the  waves  swiftly  towards 
the  Norman  shores.  But  ere  she  reached  them,  the 
warlike  star  of  Wallace,  which  still  prevailed,  bore 
down  upon  his  little  barque  the  terrific  sails  of  the  Red 
Reaver,  (^"^  a  formidable  pirate  which  then  infesting  the 
Gallic  seas,  swept  them  of  their  commerce  and  insulted 
their  navy.  He  attacked  the  French  vessel ;  but  it  car- 
ried a  greater  than  Cascir  and  his  fortunes  :  Wallace 
and  his  destiny  were  there — and  the  enemy  struck  to 
the  Scottish  chief.  The  Red  Reaver,  (so  surnamed 
because  of  his  red  sails  and  sanguinary  deeds,)  was 
killed  in  the  action  :  but  his  young  brother,  Thomas  de 
Longueville,  was  found  alive  within  the  captive  ship^ 
and  to  the  astonishment  of  Wallace,  accompanied  by 
Prince  Louis  of  France,  whom  the  pirate  had  taken  the 
day  before  on  a  sailing  party. 

Adverse  winds  for  some  time  prevented  Wallace  from 
reaching  port  witii  his  invaluable  prize,  but  the  fourth 
day  from  the  capture,  he  cast  anchor  in  the  harbour  of 
Dieppe.  The  indisposition  of  the  princcjfrom  a  wound 
he  had  received  in  his  own  conflict  witli  the  Reaver, 
made  it  necessary  to  apjgrize  King  P-^ilip  of  the  acci- 
dent:— and  in  answer  to  Wallace's  dispatches  to  that 
purpose,  the  grateful  monarch  repeated  the  proffers  of 
personal  friendship  which  had  been  the  principal  sub- 
ject of  his  last  embassy,  and  added  to  them  a  pressing 
invitation  that  he  would  immediately  accompany  the 
prince  to  Paris,  and  receive  from  the  throne  a  mark  of 
royal  gratitude,  that  should  record  his  service  done  to 
France  with  due  honour  to  future  ages.  Meanwhile, 
Philip  sent  him  a  suit  of  armour,  with  a  request  that  he 
would  wear  it  in  remembrance  of  France  and  his  own 
heroism.  But  no  devoirs  from  a  monarch,  no  offers  of 
^aggrandizement,  could  tempt  Wallace  from  his  dufy 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  175 

Impatient  to  pursue  his  journey  towards  the  spot  where 
he  hoped  to  meet  Bruce,  (whose  interest  was  now  so 
united  with  Scotland,  that  in  serving  one,  he  still  proved 
his  love  for  the  other,)  he  wrote  a  respectful  excuse  to 
the  king;  and  arraying  himself  in  the  monarch's  mar- 
tial present,  (to  convince  him  by  the  evidence  of  his  soit 
that  he  had  so  far  obeyed  the  royal  wish,)  he  joined  the 
prince  to  bid  him  farewell.  Louis  was  accompanied  by 
young  De  Longueville,  (whose  pardon  Wallace  had 
obtained  from  the  king,  on  account  of  the  youth's  ab- 
horrence to  the  use  which  his  brother  had  compelled 
him  to  make  of  his  brave  arm  :) — and  the  two,  from 
different  feelings,  expressed  their  disappointment  when 
they  found  that  their  benefactor  was  going  to  leave  them. 
Wallace  gave  his  highness  a  packet  for  the  king,  con- 
taining a  brief  statement  of  his  vow  to  Lord  Mar,  and  his 
promise,  that  when  he  had  fulfilled  it,  Philip  should  see 
him  at  Paris.  The  royal  cavalcade  then  separated  from 
the  deliverer  of  its  prince,  and  Wallace  mounting  a 
richly  barbed  Arabian  which  had  accompanied  his 
splendid  armour,  took  the  road  to  Rouen. 

Night  overtook  him  on  a  vast  and  trackless  plain. 
The  sky  was  so  thick  with  clouds  that  not  a  star  was 
visible,  and  the  horse,  terrified  at  such  impenetrable 
darkness,  and  the  difficulties  of  the  path  which  was  over 
a  barren  and  stony  moor,  suddenly  stopped.  This  arou- 
sed Wallace  frov.i  a  long  fit  of  musmg,  to  look  onward. 
But  on  which  way  lay  the  road  to  Rouen,  he  could  have 
no  guess.  To  pass  the  night  in  so  dreary  a  spot,  was 
no  pleasant  contemplation,  and  spurring  his  animal,  he 
determined  to  push  forward  to  some  lodging. 

He  had  ridden  nearly  an  hour,  when  the  dead  silence 
of  the  scene  was  broken  by  the  roll  of  distant  thunder. 
Forked  lightning  shot  from  the  horizon  and  shewed  a 
line  unmarked  by  any -vestige  of  human  habitation. 
Still  he  proceeded.  The  storm  approached,  and  brea- 
king in  peals  over  his  head,  discharged  such  sheets  of 
livid  fire  at  his  feet  that  the  horse  reare€,  and  plunging 
amidst  the  blaze,  flashed  an  insufferable  light  from  his 
rider's  armour  and  his  own,  on  the  eyes  of  a  troop  of 
horsemen  who  stood  under  the  tempest  gazing  with  af- 
i>ight  at  the  scene.     Wallace,  by  the  same  transitory 


\76  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

illumination,  saw  the  travellers  as  they  seemed  to^tapS 
back  at  his  appearance  ;  and  mistaking  their  sentiment, 
he  called  to  them  that  his  well-managed,  though  terri- 
fied steed,  should  do  them  no  hurt.  One  of  them  ad- 
vanced, and  respectfully  inquired  of  him  the  way  to 
Rouen.  Wallace  replied  that  he  was  a  stranger  in  this 
part  of  the  country ;  but  as  he  also  was  seeking  that 
city,  he  would  render  them  every  assistance  in  hispov^  • 
er  to  find  the  path.  While  he  was  yet  speaking,  the 
claps  of  thunder  became  more  tremendous,  and  the 
lightning  seeming  to  roll  in  volumes  along  the  ground, 
the  horses  of  the  troop  became  restive,  and  one  of  them 
throwing  its  rider,  galloped,  scared  away,  across  the 
plain.  Cries  of  terror,  mingled  with  the  groans«of  the 
fallen  person,  excited  the  compsssion  of  Wallace :  he 
rode  towards  the  spot  where  the  latter  proceeded,  and 
asked  the  nearest  by-stander  (for  several  had  alighted,) 
whether  his  friend  were  much  hurt?  The  man  returned 
an  answer  full  of  alarm  for  the  sufferer  and  anxiety  to 
obtain  some  place  of  shelter,  for  the  rain  now  began  to 
fall.  In  a  few  minutes  it  increased  to  torrents,  and  ex- 
tinguishing the  lightning,  deepened  the  horrors  of  the 
scene,  by  preventing  the  likelihood  of  discovering  any 
human  abode.  The  poor  men,  now  gathered  round 
rheir  fallen  companion,  and  declaring  that  from  his  fee- 
ble state  he  must  perish  under  such  inclemencies:  but 
Wallace  cheered  them,  by  saying  he  would  seek  a  shel- 
ter for  their  friend,  and  that  he  would  blow  his  bugle 
when  he  had  found  one.  As  he  spoke,  he  turned  his 
horse,  and  calling,  as  he  galloped  along,  in  the  loudest 
tones  of  his  voice,  for  any  christian  man  who  lived  near 
to  open  his  doors  to  a  dying  traveller !  after  riding 
about  in  all  directions,  during  a  time  that  seemed  an  age, 
while  a  poor  suffering  creature  was  lying  exposed  to 
the  torrents  which  were  now  rolling  down  his  armour, 
he  saw  a  glimmering  light  for  a  moment,  and  then  all 
was  darkness  ;  but  a  shrill  female  voice  answered,  *'  I 
am  a  lone  woman,  and  a  widow  ;  but  for  the  Virgin*s. 
sake  I  will  open  my  door  to  you,  whoever  you  may  be.** 
The  good  woman  re -lit  her  lamp,  v/hich  the  rain  had 
extinguished  when  she  opened  the  casement ;  and  un- 
latching her  door,  Wallace  briefly  reliited  v^'hat  had.  ( 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  177 

happened,  and  entreated  permission  to  bring  the  unfor- 
tunate traveller  to  her  cottage.  She  readily  consented, 
and  giving  him  a  lantern  to  guide  his  way,  he  blew  his 
bugle,  and  was  answered  by  so  glad  and  loud  a  shout, 
that  he  was  assured  his  companions  could  not  be  far 
distant,  and  that  he  must  have  made  many  an  useless 
circuit  before  he  had  arrived  at  this  benevolent  mat- 
ron's. 

The  men  directed  him  through  the  darkness  by  their 
voices,  for  the  lamp  threw  its  beams  but  a  very  little 
way,  and  arriving  at  their  side,  by  his  assistence  the 
bruised  traveller,  whom  they  said  was  their  master^ 
was  brought  to  the  cottage.  It  was  a  poor  hovel :  but  the 
pfood  woman  had  spread  a  clean  woollen  coverlid  over 
her  own  bed  in  the  inner  chamber,  and  thither  Wallace 
carried  the  invalid,  and  laid  him  on  the  humble  paHet. 
He  seemed  in  great  pain,  but  his  kind  conductor  an- 
swered their  hostess's  inquiries  respecting  him,  tliat  he 
believed  no  bones  v/ere  broken.  "  Yet,"  added  he,  "  I 
fear  the  effects  of  internal  bruises  on  so  emaciated  a 
frame.  Wallace  then  inquired  for  some  herbs  which 
usually  grow  in  the  poorest  garden,  to  make  a  decoc- 
tion for  the  stranger.  The  old  woman  cheerfully  went 
into  hers  to  trather  them,  and  shewed  the  attendants 
where  they  might  put  the  horses  under  the  shelter  of 
an  old  ruined  shed  "\yhich  projected  from  the  hoveL 
Meanv.'hile  the  Sottish  chief,  assisted  by  the  man  who 
had  been  the  spokesman  of  the  troop,  disengaged  the 
sufferer  from  his  wet  garments,  and  covered  him  with 
the  blankets  of  the  bed.  Recovered  to  recollection  by 
the  comparative  comfort  of  his  bodily  feelings,  the 
stranger  opened  his  eyes.  He  fixed  them  on  Wallace, 
then  looked  around,  and  turned  to  Wallace  again. 
The  attendant  in  a  few  words  hastily  related  the  parti- 
culars of  what  had  happened.  "Generous  knight  1" 
cried  the  invalid,  "  I  have  nothing  but  thanks  to  offer 
for  this  kindness.  You  seem  to  be  of  the  highest  rank, 
and  yet  have  succoured  one  whom  the  world  abjures  I 
You  have  shewn  charity  to  the  poorest,  most  degraded 
of  men  1  Can  it  be  possible  that  a  prince  of  France 
has  dared  to  act  thus  contrary  to  his  peers  1" 

Wallace,  not  apprehending  what  had  given  ris^  to, 


178  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

this  question,  supposed  the  stranger's  wits  were  dis- 
ordered, and  looked  with  that  inquiry  towards  the  at- 
tendant just  at  the  moment  when  the  old  woman  re-en- 
tered with  the  herhs,  followed  by  a  man  wrapped  in  a 
black  mantle.  "  Here,"  cried  she,  "  is  another  tem- 
pest-beaten traveller ;  I  hope  your  honours  will  give 
him  room  by  your  fire  !'* — V/hiie  she  spoke,  the  new- 
comer put  up  his  visor  ;  h'/s  eyes  met  those  of  Wallace, 
and  the  ejaculations,  Wallace  I — 'Bruce  ! — burst  at 
once  from  their  hearts  as  they  rushed  into  each  other's 
arms.  All  present  were  lost  to  them  in  tli£  joy  of 
ineeting  so  unexpectedly  after  so  perilous  a  separation  ; 
a  joy,  not  confined  for  its  object  to  their  individual 
selves,  each  saw  in  the  other  the  hope  of  Scotland  ;  and 
when  they  embraced,  it  was  not  merely  vrith  the  ar- 
dour of  friendship,  but  with  the  fires  of  patriotism  re- 
joicing in  the  preservation  of  its  chief  dependance. 
While  the  friends,  in  their  native  tongue,  freely  spoke 
before  a  people  who  could  not  be  supposed  to  under- 
stand them,  the  aged  stranger  on  the  bed  reiterated  his 
.moans.  Wallace,  in  a  fev/  words,  telling  Bruce  the 
manner  of  his  rencontre  with  the  sick  man,  and  his  be- 
lief that  he  was  disordered  in  his  mind,  drew  towards 
the  bed,  and  offered  him  some  of  the  decoction  which 
the  woman  had  mftder  The  invalid  took  it,  drank  it, 
and  looked  earnestly  first  on  "Wallace,  and  then  on 
Bruce.  "  Pierre,  withdraw."  cried  he  to  his  a.ttendant. 
The  man  obeyed.  "  Sit  down  by  me,  noble  friends,'* 
said  he  to  the  Scottish  chiefs,  ^'^  and  read  a  lesson  which 
I  pray  ye  lay  to  your  hearts  i"  Bruce  glanced  a  look 
at  Wallace,  that  declared  he  was  of  his  opinion.  Wal- 
lace drew  a  stool,  while  his  friend  seated  himself  on  the 
bed.-— The  old  woman  perceiving  something  extraordi- 
nary in  the  countenc.nce  of  the  bruised  stranger,  thought 
he  was  going  to  reveal  some  secret  heavy  on  his  mind, 
and  out  of  deliciicy  withdrew. 

"  You  think  that  my  intellects  are  injured,"  said  he. 
turning  to  Wallace,  "  because  i  addressed  you  as  one 
of  the  house  of  Philip!  Those  jev/elled  lilies  round 
your  helmet  led  me  into  the  error.  I  never  before  saw 
them  granted  to  other  than  a  prince  of  the  blood.  But 
think  not,  brave  mto,  I  respect  you  less  since  I  have 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  179 

j  discovered  that  you  are  not  of  the  race  of  Philip,  that 
you  are  other  tlfan  a  prince  !- — Look  on  me,  at  this  ema- 
ciated form,  and  behold  the  reverses  of  all  earthly  gran- 
deur!— This  palsied  hand  once  held  a  sceptre,  these 
hollow  temples  were  once  decorated  with  a  crown! — - 
He  that  used  to  be  followed  as  the  source  of  honour,  as 
the  fountain  of  prosperity,  with  suppliants  at  his  feet 
and  flatterers  at  his  side,  would  now  be  left  to  solitude, 
were  it  not  for  these  few  faithful  old  servants,  who,  in 
spite  of  all  changes,  have  preserved  their  allegiance  to 
the  end.  .Look  on  me,  chiefs,  and  behold  him  who  was 
the  King  of  Scots." 

Both  Wallace  and  Bruce,  at  this  declaration,  struck 
with  suprise  and  compassion  at  meeting  their  ancient 
enemy,  reduced  to  such  abject  misery,  with  one  impulse 
bowed  their  heads  to  him  with  an  air  of  reverence  they 
would  have  started  from,  liad  he  been  still  the  minion 
of  Edward.  The  action  penetrated  the  heart  of  Ba- 
liol :  for  when,  at  the  mutual  exclamation  of  the  two 
friends  on  their  first  meeting  in  the  hovel,  he  recog- 
nised in  v>diose  presence  he  lay,  he  fearfully  remem- 
bered, that  by  his  base  submissions,  he  had  turned  the 
scale  of  judgment  in  his  own  favour,  and  defrauded  the 
grandsire  of  the  very  Bruce  now  before  him,  of  a  fair 
decision  on  his  rights  to  the  crown!  and  when  he 
looked  on  Wallace,  who  had  preserved  him  from  the 
effects  of  his  accident,  and  brought  him  to  a  shelter 
from  the  raging  terrors  of  the  night,  his  conscience 
doubly  smote  him ;  for,  from  the  hour  of  his  elevation 
to  that  of  his  downfall,  he  had  ever  persecuted  the  fa- 
mily of  Wallace,  and  at  an  hour  momentous  for  Scot- 

nd,  had  denied  them  the  right  of  drav/ing  their  swords 
in  the  defence  of  Scotland. — He,  her  king,  had  resigned 
all  into  the  hands  of  an  usurper  :  but  Wallace,  the  in- 
jured Wallace,  had  arisen  like  a  star  of  light  on  the 
deep  darkness  of  her  captivity,  and  Scotland  was  once 
more  free  !  At  first  the  exiled  monarch  had  started  at 
the  irlaze  of  the  uiiknown  knight's  jewelled  panoply; 
now  he  shrunk  before  the  brightness  of  his  glory — and 
Tailing  back  on  his  bed,  he  groaned  aloud.  To  these 
young  men,  so  strangely  brought  before  him,  and  both 
■:>!l  whom  he  had  wronged,  he  detej-mined  immediately 


>B0  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

I'D  reveal  himself,  and  see  whether  those  he  had  harmed 
were  equally   resentful  of  injuries,  as  those   he   had 
served   were  ungrateful   for   benefits   received.       He 
spoke :  and  when,  instead  of  seeing  the  pair  rise  in  in- 
dignation on  his  pronouncing  his  name,   they  bowed 
their  heads,  and  sat  listening  in  respectful  silence  ;  hisv 
desolate  heart  expanded  at  once  to  admit  the  long-es- ' 
tranged  emotion  of  pleasure,  and  he  burst  into  tears. 
He  caught  the  hand  of  Bruce,  who  sat  nearest  to  him, 
and  stretching  out  the  other  to  Wallace,  exclaimed, 
'^  I  have  not  deserved  this  goodness  from  either  of  you.  ; 
Perhaps  you  two  are  the  only  men  now  living  whom  I 
ever  greatly  injured,  and  you,  excepthig  my  four  poor, 
attendants,   are  perhaps  the  only   men  existing  who^ 
would  compassionate  my  misfortunes!" 

"  These  are  lessons,  king,"  returned  Wallace,  in  a^ 
respectful  tone  of  voice,  "  to  fit  you  for  a  better  crown' 
than  the  one  you  so  lately  wore.  And  never,  in  my 
eyes,  did  the  descendant  of  Alexander  seem  so  worthy 
of  his  blood  I" — The  grateful  monarch  pressed  his 
hand. — Bruce  continued  to  gaze  on  him  with  a  thou- 
sand av.ful  thoughts  occupying  his  m.ind.  Baliol  read 
in  his  expressive  countenance  the  reflections  Avhich 
chained  his  tongue.  "  Behold  how  low  is  laid  the 
proud  rival  of  your  grandfather!"  exclaimed  he,  turn- 
ing to  Bruce.   **'  I  compassed  a  throne  I  could  not  fill 

I.  mistook  the  robes,  the  homage,  for  the  kingly  dignity. 
Ignorant  of  the  thousand  duties  I  was  called  upon  to 
perform,  I  left  them  all  undone.  I  bartered  the  liber- 
ties of  my  country  for  a  crown  I  knew  not  how  to  wear, 
and  the  insidious  traflacker  reclaimed  it,  and  threw  me 
into  prison. — There  I  expiated  my  crime  against  the 
gallant  Bruce  :  not  one  of  all  the  Scottish  lords  who  J 
frequented  Edward's  court,  ever  came  to  beguile  a1 
moment  of  sorrov/  from  their  captive  monarch. — Lonely 
I  lived,  for  I  was  even  deprived  by  the  mandates  of  my 
tyrant  of  the  comfort  of  seeing  my  fellow  prisoner  Lord 
Douglas,  he  whose  attachment  to  my  true  interests  had 
betrayed  to  an  English  prison.  I  never  saw  him  after 
the  day  of  his  being  put  into  the  Tower,  until  that  of 
}iis  death." — Wallace  interrupted  him  with  an  excla- 
■■iution  of  surprise.     "Yes/'  added  Baliolj  ^' 1  myself 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  181 

jclosed  his  eyes :  at  that  awful  hour  he  petitioned  to  see 
me,  and  the  boon  was  granted.  I  went  to  him ;  and 
then,  with  his  dying-  breath,  he  spoke  truths  to  me 
which  were  indeed  the  messengers  from  heaven  :  they 
taught  me  what  I  was,  and  what  I  might  be.  He  died  : 
but  Edward  being  then  absent  in  Planders,  and  you, 
brave  Wallace,  triumphant  in  Scotland,  and  laying  such 
a  stress  in  your  negotiations  for  the  return  of  Douglas, 
the  Southron  cabinet  agreed  to  conceal  his  death,  and 
by  making  his  name  an  instrument  to  excite  your  hopes 
and  fear,  turn  your  anxiety  for  him  to  their  own  advan- 
tage." 

The  blood  spread  in  deep  scarlet  over  the  face  of 
Bruce  : — "  With  what  a  race  have  I  been  so  long 
connected  I — What  mean  subterfuges,  what  dastardly 
deceits,  for  the  leaders  of  a  great  nation  to  adopt!  Oh  ! 
Jiing  !"  exclaimed  he,  turning  toBaliol,  "  If  you  have 
errors  to  atone  for,  what  then  must  be  the  penalty 
of  my  sin,  for  holding  so  long  with  an  enemy  as 
vile  as  ambitious  I — Scotland  !  Scotland  I  I  must  weep 
tears  of  blood  for  this  V  He  rose  in  agitation. — Baliol 
followed  him  with  his  eyes.  "  Amiable  Bruce  I  you 
too  severely  arraign  a  fault  that  was  venial  in  you. 
Your  father  gave  himself  to  Edward,  and  his  son  ac- 
companied the  tribute."  Bruce  vehemently  answered, 
*'  If  King  Edward  ever  said  that,  he  uttered  a  falser 
hood. — My  father  loved  him,  confided  in  him,  and  the 
ingrate  betrayed  him  ! — His  fidelity  was  no  gift  of  him- 
self in  acknowledgment  of  inferiority :  it  was  the 
pledge  of  a  friendship  exchanged  on  equal  terms  on 
the  fields  of  Palestine  :  and  well  did  King  Edwilrd 
know  that  he  had  no  right  over  either  m;^  father  or 
me,  for,  in  the  moment  he  doubted  our  attachment,^  'he 
was  aware  of  having  forfeited  it ;  he  knew  he  had  le- 
gally no  claim  on  us  ;  and  forgetting  every  law,  human 
and  divine,  he  threw  us  into  prison.  But  my  father 
found  liberty  in  the  grave,  and  I  am  ready  to  shew 
him  my  power  in "  he  would  have  added  "  Scot- 
land,*' but  he  forbore  to  give,  perhaps,  the  last  blow  to 
tlie  unhappy  Baliol,  by  shewhig  him  that  his  kingdom 
had  indeed  passed  from  him,  and  that  the  man  was  be- 

VOL.    II  Q 


i82  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

fore  him,  destined  to  wield  his  sceptre.     He  stopped, 
and  sat  down  in  generous  confusion. 

"  Hesitate  not,"  said  Baliol,  "to  say  where  you  will" 
shew  your  power  ?  I  know  that  the  brave  Wallace 
has  laid  open  the  way.  Had  I  possessed  such  a  leader 
of  my  troops,  I  should  not  now  be  lying  a  mendicant  in 
this  hovel;  I  should  not  be  a  creature  to  be  pitied  and 
despised. — Wear  him,  Bruce,  wear  him  in  your  heart's 
core.     He   gives  the  throne   he   might  have    filled." 

"  Make  not  that  a  subject  of  extraordinary  praise,'" 
cried  Wallace,  "  which,  if  I  had  left  undone,  would 
have  stamped  me  a  traitor.  I  have  only  performed 
my  duty  :  and  may  the  Holy  Anointer  of  the  hearts  of 
kings,  guide  him  to  his  kingdom,  and  keep  him  there 
in  peace  and  honour." 

I3aliol  rose  in  his  bed  at  these  words  :  "  Bruce,"  said 
he,  approach  me  near."  He  obeyed.  The  feeble  mo- 
narch turned  to  Wallace  ;  "  You  have  supported  what 
was  my  kingdom,  through  its  last  struggles  for  liberty  : 
put  forth  your  hand,  and  support  its  exiled  sovereign  j 
in  his  last  regal  act."  Wallace  obeying,  raised  the 
king  so  as  to  enable  him  to  assume  a  kneeling  pos- 
ture. Dizzy  with  the  exertion,  Baliol  for  a  moment 
I  ested  on  the  shoulder  of  the  chief,  and  then  looking 
up,  he  saw  Bruce  gazing  on  him  with  compassionate 
interest.  The  unhappy  monarch  stretched  out  his 
arms  to  heaven  : — "  May  God  pardon  the  injuries  which  . 
my  fatal  ambition  did  to  you  and  yours  ;  the  miseries 
I  brought  upon  my  country  ; — and  let  your  reign 
redeem  my  errors !  May  the  spirit  of  wisdom  bless 
you,  my  son  !'*  His  hands  were  now  laid  with  pious 
fervour  on  the  headof  Bruce,  who,  at  this  benediction 
§tink  on  his  knees  before  him.  "  Whatever  rights  I 
had  to  tli^  crown  of  Scotland,  by  the  worthlessness  of 
my  reign  they  are  forfeited,  and  I  resign  all  unto  you 
even  to  the  participation  of  the  mere  title  of  kmg  ;  and 
what  was  as  the  ghost  of  my  former  self,  an  accusing 
spirit  to  me,  will  I  trust,  be  as  an  angel  of  light  to  you, 
to  conduct  your  people  into  all  happiness  1"  exhaust- 
ed by  his  feelings,  he  sunk  back  into  the  arms  of  Wal- 
lace.— Bruce,  starting  from  the  ground,  poured  a  little 
of  the  herb-balsam  into  the  king's  mouth;  and  he  re-* 


THE   SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  i8o* 

I  vived.  As  Wallace  laid  him  back  on  his  pillow  he 
gazed  wistfully  at  him,  and  grasping  his  hand,  said  in 
a  low  voice,  "How  did  I  throw  a  blessing  from  me! 
But  in  those  days,  when  I  rejected  your  services  at  Dun- 
bar, I  knew  not  the  Almighty  arm  which  brought  the 
boy  of  Ellerslie  to  save  his  couiJlry ! — I  scorned  the 
patriot  flame  that  spoke  your  mission,  and  the  mercy 
of  heaven  departed  from  me  1** 

Memory  v/as  now  busy  with  the  thoughts  of  Bruce. 
I  He  remembered  his  father's  weak  if  not  criminal  de- 
votion at  that  time  to  the  interests  of  Edward ;  he  re- 
membered his  heart-wrung  death  ;  and  looking  at  the 
desolate  old  age  of  another  of  Edward's  victims,  his 
biv.ve  soul  melted  to  pity  and  regret,  and  he  retired  in- 
to a  distant  part  of  the  room  to  shed  unobserved  the 
tears  he  could  not  restrain.  Wallace  soon  after  saw 
the  eyes  of  the  exhausted  king  close  in  sleep  :  and  cau- 
tious of  awakening  him,  he  did  not  stir ;  but  leaning 
against  the  thick  oaken  frame  of  the  bed,  was  soon  lost 
in  as  deep  a  repose. 

After  some  time  of  wordless  stillness,  (for  the  old 
dame,  and  the  attendants,  were  at  rest  in  the  outward 
chamber,)  Bruce,  whose  low  sighs  were  echoed  only 
by  the  wind  which  swept  in  gusts  by  the  little  case- 
ment, looked  towards  the  abdicated  monarch's  Gouch. 
He  slept  profoundly,  yet  frequently  started  as  if  dis- 
turbed by  troujbled  drcc^ms.  Wallace  moved  not  on 
his  hard  pillow,  and  the  serenity  of  perfect  peace  rested 
upon  all  his  features  : — "How  tranquil  is  the  sleep  of 
the  virtuous!"  thought  iJruce,  as  he  contemplated  the 
difference  betv/een  his  state  and  that  of  Bailors; 
"  there  lies  an  accusing  conscience  ;  here  rests  one  of 
the  most  faultless  of  created  beings.  It  is,  it  is,  the 
sleep  of  innocence  I — come  ye  slanderers,"  continued 
he,  mentally  calling  on  those  he  had  left  at  Edward's 
court,  "  and  tell  me  if  an  adulterer  could  look  thus 
when  he  sleeps  ! — Is  there  one  trace  of  irregular  pas- 
sion about  that  placid  mouth  ?  Does  one  of  those  hea- 
venly-composed features  bear  testimony  to  emotions, 
which  leave  marks  even  when  subdued  ? — No;  virtue 
has  set  up  her  throne  in  that  breast,  and  well  may 
kings  come  to  bow  to  it !" 


184  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 


CHAP.  XVII 

1  HE  entrance  of  the  old  woman  about  an  hour  after 
sun-rise,  awakened   Wallace  ;  but  Baliol  continued  to 
sleep.     On  the  chiel^'i  opening  his  eyes,  Bruce  with  a 
smile  stretched  out  his  hand  W,  him.     Wallace  ro«c, 
and  whispering  the  widow  to  abide  by  her  guest   till 
they  should  return  (for  they  intended  to  see  him  safe 
to  his  home,)  he  said  they  would  refresh  themselves 
,vith   a  walk.     The   good    dame    curtseyed    acquies- 
cence; and  the  friends  cautiously  passing  the  sleepers 
in   the   outer   apartments,    emerged   to  the   cheerful 
breeze.     A  wood  opened  its  umbrageous  arms  at  a  lit- 
tle distance,    and   thither,   over    the  dew-bespangled 
grass,  they  bent  their  way.     The  birds  sung   from  tree 
to  tree ;  and  Wallace   seating  himself  under  an  over- 
hanging larch   which    canopied  a  narrow   winding  of 
the  river  Seine,  listened  with  mingled  pain  and'satisfac- 
tion  to  the  communications  v;hich  Bruce  had  to  impart 
relative  to  what  had  passed   since   his  departure  from 
Durham.     He  related,  that  the  instant   Wallace  had 
followed  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  from  the  apartment  in 
ihe  castle,  it  v/as  entered  by  Sir  Piers  Gaveston.     He 
dema.nded  the  minstrel.     Bruce  replied   he  knew  not 
where  he  was.     Gaveston,  anxious  by  his  zeal  to  con- 
vince the  king  that  he  was  no  accomplice  with  the  sus- 
pected person,  again  addressed  Bruce  in  a  tone  which 
he  meant  should  intimidate  him ;  and,  a  second  time  put 
the  q'.estion,  "Where  is   the    minstrel?" — "I  know- 
not,"  replied  Bruce.     "  And  will  you  dare  to  tell  me, 
earl,"  asked  he, ''  that  within  this  quarter  of  an  hour  he 
has  not  been  in  this  tower?  nay,  in  this  very  room? — 
The  guards  in  your  antichamber  have  told  me  thait  he 
was : — and  can  Lord  Carrick  stoop  to  utter  a  falsehood 
to  screen  a  wandering  beggar  ?" 

While  he  "Was  speaking  Bruce  stood  eyeing  him  with 
increasing  scorn.  Gaveston  paused — ^"  You  expect 
me  to  answer  you  ;"  said  the  prince  ;  "  out  of  respect 
to  myself,  I  will ;  for  such  is  the  unsullied  honour  of 
Robert  Bruce,  that  even  the  air  shall   not  be  tainted 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  185 

.with  a  slander  against  his  truth,  ^vithout  being  re-puri- 
fied by  its  confutation.  Gaveston,  you  have  known  me 
five  years:  tw-o  of  them  we  past  together  in  the  jousts 
of  Flanders,  and  yet  you  believe  me  capable  of  false- 
hood !  Know  then,  unworthy  of  the  esteem  I  have  be- 
stowed on  you  1  that  neither  to  save  mean  nor  great, 
would  I  deviate  from  the  strict  line  of  truth.  The  man 
you  seek  may  have  been  in  this  tower,  in  this  room,  as 
you  now  are ;  and  as  little  am  I  bound  to  know  where 
he  is  when  he  quits  it,  as  whither  you  go  when  you  re- 
lieve me  from  an  inquisition  which  I  hold  myself  ac- 
countable to  no  man  to  answer.'* "  'Tis  well ;"  cried 

Ctaveston,  "  and  I   am  to  carry  this  haughty  message 

to  the  king?" "  If  you  deliver   it  as  a  message," 

answered  Bruce,  "  you  will  prove  that  they  who  are 
ready  to  suspect  falsehood,  find  its  utterance  easy.  My 
reply  is  to  you.     When  King  Edward  speaks  to  me,  I 

shall  find  an  answer  that  is  due  to  him." "  These 

attempts  to  provoke  me  into  a  private  quarrel,'*  cried 
Gaveston,  "  will  not  succeed.  I  am  not  to  be  so  foiled 
irom  my  duty.  I  must  seek  for  the  man  throughout 
your  apartments.'* -"  By  whose  authority  ?"  demand- 
ed Bruce. "  By  my  own,  as  the  loyal  subject  of  my 

outraged  monarch.  He  bade  me  bring  the  traitor  be- 
fore him,  and  thus  I  obey."  As  Ga?veston  spoke,  he 
beckoned  to  his  men  to  follow  him  to  the  door  whence 
Wallace  had  disappeared.  Bruce  threw  himself  be- 
fore it :  "I  must  forget  the  duty  I  owe  to  myself,  be- 
fore I  allow  you  or  any  other  man  to  invade  my  privacy. 
I  have  already  given  you  the  answer  that  becomes  Ro- 
bert Bruce  ;  and  as  you  are  a  knight,  instead  of  compel- 
ling, I  request  you  to  withdraw."  Gaveston  hesitated  : 
but  he  knew  the  determined  character  of  his  opponent ; 
and  therefore  with  no  very  good  grace,  muttering  that 
he'  should  hear  of  it  from  a  more  powerful  quarter, 
he  left  the  room. 

And  certainly  his  threats  were  not  in  this  instance 
vain  ;  for,  in  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  a  marshal  at  =• 
tended  by  a  numerous  retinue,  made  his  appearance,  to 
force  Bruce  before  the  king. 

^'  Robert  Bruce,  Earl  of  Cleaveland,  Carrick,  and 
q2 


.8G  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Annandale,  I  come  to  summon  you  into  the  presence 
of  your  liege  lord  Edward  of  England." 

"  The  Earl  of  Cleaveland  obeys,"  said  he,  and  with 
a  fearless  step  he  walked  out  before  the  marshal. 

When  he  entered  the  presence-chamber,  Sir  Piers 
Gaveston  stood  beside  the  royal  couch,  as  if  prepared  to 
be  his  accuser.  The  king  sat,  supported  by  pillows,  paler 
"vvith  the  mortifications  of  his  jealousy  and  baffled  au- 
thority, than  by  the  effects  of  his  wounds, — "  Robert 
Bruce  T' cried  he,  the  moment  his  eyes  fell  on  him; 
but  the  sight  of  his  mourning  habit  made  a  stroke  upon 
his  heart  that  sent  out  drops  of  shame  in  large  globules 
on  his  forehead, — he  paused,  wiped  his  face  with  his 
handkerchief,  and  resumed — "  Are  you  not  afraid,  pre- 
sumptuous young  man,  thus  to  provoke  your  sovereign  ? 
Are  you  not  afraid  that  I  shall  make  that  audacious  head 
answer  for  the  man  whom  you  thus  dare  to  screen  ifom 
^ny  just  revenge  ?"  Bruce  felt  the  many  injuries  he 
had  suffered  from  this  proud  king  rush  at  once  upon 
his  memory  ;  and  without  changing  his  position,  or  low- 
ering the  lofty  expression  of  his  looks,  he  firmly  ans- 
wered— "  The  judgment  of  a  just  king  I  cannot  fear; 

the  sentence  of  an  unjust  one,  I  despise.*' *'  This 

to  his  majesty's  face  ?"  exclaimed  Soulis. "Inso- 
lence— Rebellion — Chastisement — nay,  even  death  !" 
■were  the  v/ords  that  were  heard  murmuring  round  the 
Toom,  at  the  honest  reply.  Edward  had  too  much  good 
sense  to  echo  any  one  of  them  ;  but  turning  to  Bruce 
with  a  sensation  of  shame  he  would  gladly  have  repres- 
sed, he  caid,  that  in  consideration  of  his  youth  he  would 
pardon  him  what  had  passed,  and  reinstate  him  in 
all  the  late  Earl  of  Carrick's  honours,  if  he  would  im- 
mediately declare  where  he  had  hidden  the  offending 
TninstrcL  ''  I  have  not  hidden  him ;"  cried  Brucp 
<<  nor  do  I  know  where  he  is:  but  had  that  been  confid- 
ed to  me,  as  1  know  him  to  be  an  innocent  man,  no 
power  on  earth  should  have  wrenched  him  from  me  !" 

"  Self-sufficient  boy  1"  exclaimed  Earl  Buchan,  with 
a  laugh  of  contempt,  '*  Do  you  flatter  yourself  that  he 
would  trust  such  a  novice  as  you  are,  with  secrets  of 
this  nature?"  Bruce  turned  on  him  an  eye  of  fire. 
.«-"  Buchan/'  replied  he,  '<  1  will  answer  you  on  other 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  187 

ground.     Meanwhile   remember,  that  the   secrets  of 
good  men  are  open  to  every  virtuous  heart ;  those  of 
II  the  wicked,  they  would  be  glad  to  conceal  from  them- 
E  selves.'^ 

i|      "Robert   Bruce,"  cried   the  king,  "  before  I  came 
;|  this  northern  journey  I  ever  found  you  one  of  the  most 
;  devoted  of  my  servants,  the  gentlest  youth  in  my  court ; 
ji  and  how  do  I  see  you  now  ?     Braving  my  nobles  to  my 
i  face  I     How  is  it  that  until  now  this  spirit  never  broke 
i  forth  ?"      "  Because,**    answered   the  prince,    "  until 
t  now,  I  had  never  seen  the  virtuous  friend   whom  you 
I  call  upon  me  to  betray/*     "  Then  you  confess,"  cried 
jj  the  king,  "that  he  was  an  instigator  to  rebellion  T*  "  I 
I  avow,*'  answered  Bruce,  "  that  I  never  knew  what  true 
I  loyalty  was,  till  he  taught  it  me  ;  I  never  knew  the  na- 
ture of  real  chastity,  till  he  explained  it  to   me ;  and 
allowed  me  to  see  in  himself,  incorruptible  fidelity,  bra- 
very undaunted,  and  a  purity  of  heart  not  to  be  contam- 
inated 1     And  this  is  the  man  on  whom  these   lords 
would  fasten  a  charge  of  treason  and  adultery  1  But  out 
of  the   filthy  depths  of   their  own  breasts,  arise   the 
steams  with  which  they  would  blacken  his  fairness." 

"  Your  vindication,"  cried  the  king,  "confirms  his 
guilt. — You  admit  that  he  is  not  a  minstrel  in  reality. — - 
Wherefore  then  did  he  steal  in  ambuscade  into  my  pa- 
lace, but  to  betray  either  my  honour  or  my  life,  or  per- 
haps both?"  "His  errand  here,  was  to  see  me.'^ 
'*  Rash,  boy :"  cried  Edward,  "  then  you  acknowledge 
yourself  a  premeditated  conspirator  against  me  ?" 
Soulis  now  whispered  in  the  king's  ear,  but  so  low  that 
Bruce  did  not  hear  him  ;  "  Penetrate  farther,  my  liege  ; 
this  may  be  only  a  false  confession  to  shield  the  queen's 
character.  For  she  who  has  once  betrayed  her  duty., 
;  finds  it  easy  to  reward  such  handsome  advocates."  The 
scarlet  of  inextinc^uishable  wrath  now  burnt  on  the  face 
of  Edward — "  Iwill  confront  them,"  thought  he,  "  and 
surprise  them  into  betraying  each  other." 

By  his  orders  the  queen  was  brought  in,  supported 
by  the  Countess  of  Gloucester.  "  Jane,*'  cried  the 
king,  "  leave  that  woman  ;  let  her  impudence  sustain 
her."  "  Rather  her  innocence  my  lord,"  said  the 
countess  bowing,  and  h€sitating  to  obey.     "  Leave  her 


158  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

to  that,"  returned  the  incensed  husband,  "  and  she 
would  grovel  on  the  earth  like  her  own  base  passions  : 
but  stand  before  me  she  shall ;  and  without  oAer  sup- 
port than  the  devil's  within  her  '*  "For  pity  !"  cried 
the  queen,  extending  her  clasped  hands  towards  Ed- 
ward, and  bursting  into  tears  ;  "  have  mercy  on  me,  for 
I  am  innocent !"  "  Prove  it  then,"  cried  the  king,  "  by 
agreeing  with  this  confident  of  your  minstrel,  and  at 
once  tell  me  by  what  name  you  addressed  him  when 
you  allured  him  to  my  court  ?  Is  he  French,  Spanish, 
or  English?"  "  By  the  Virgin's  holy  purity  I  swear!" 
cried  the  queen,  sinking  on  her  knees,  "  that  I  never 
allured  him  to  this  court; — I  never  beheld  him  till  I 
saw  him  at  the  bishop's  banquet ;  and  for  his  name,  I 
know  it  not."  "  O  !  vilest  of  the  vile  1"  cried  the  king, 
in  a  paroxysm  of  fury  throwing  a  missal  which  lay  on 
his  couch,  at  her  head  ;  "  and  didst  thou  become  a  wan- 
ton at  a  glance  ! — From  my  sight  this  moment,  or  I 
shall  blast  thee?" 

/rhe  queen  fainted,  and  dropt  senseless  into  the  arms  of 
the  Earl  of  Gloucester,  who  at  that  moment  returned 
from  seeing  Wallace  through  the  cavern.  At  sight  of 
him,  Bruce  knew  that  his  friend  was  safe ;  and  fearless 
for  himself,  when  the  cause  of  outraged  innocence  was 
at  stake,  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  "By  one  word.  King 
Edward,  I  will  confirm  the  blamelessness  of  this  in- 
jured queen.  Listen  to  me,  not  as  a  monarch,  and  an 
enemy,  but  with  the  unbiassed  judgment  of  man  with 
Bian,  and  then  ask  your  own  brave  heart,  if  it  would 
be  possible  for  Sir  William  Wallace  to  be  a  seducer? 

Every  mouth  was  dumb  at  the  enunciation  of  that 
name.  None  dared  open  a  lip  in  accusation ;  and  the 
king  himself,  thunder-struck  alike  with  the  boldness  of 
his  conqueror  venturing  within  the  grasp  of  his  re- 
venge, and  at  the  daringness  of  Brucu  in  thus  declaring 
his  connexion  with  him;  for  a  few  minutes  knew  not 
what  to  answer:  only,  he  had  received  conviction  of  his 
wife's  innocence  !  He  was  too  well  acquainted  with 
the  history  and  uniform  conduct  of  Wallace,  to  doubt 
his  honour  in  this  transaction  ;  and  though  a  transient 
fancy  of  the  queen's  might  have  hud  existeiice,  vet  he 
had  now  Jio  suspicion  of  her  actions.     "  Bruce,"  said 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  189 

lie,  "  your  honesty  has  saved  the  Queen  of  England, 
Though  Wallace  is  my  enemy,  I  know  him  to  be  of  an 
integrity  which  neither  man  nor  woman  can  shake  ;  and 
therefore,"  added  he,  turning  to  the  lords,  '^  I  declare 
before  all  who  have  heard  me  so  fiercely  arraign  my  in- 
jured wife,  that  I  believe  her  innocent  of  every  offence 
against  me.  And  whoever,  after  this,  mientions  one 
word  of  what  has  passed  in  these  investigations,  or 
even  whispers  that  they  ever  have  been  held,  shall  be 
punished  as  guilty  of  high  treason.'* 

Bruce  was  then  ordered  to  be  re-conducted  back  to 
the  round  tower ;  and  the  rest  of  the  lords  withdrawing 
by  command,  the  king  was  left  with  Gloucester,  his 
daughter  Jane,  and  the  now  reviving  queen,  to  make 
his  peace  with  her,  even  on  his  knees. 

Bruce  was  more  closely  immured  than  ever.  Not 
even  his  senachie  was  allowed  to  approach  him,  and 
double  guards  were  kept  constantly  on  the  watch  around 
his  prison.  On  the  fourth  day  of  his  seclusion,  an  extra 
row  of  iron  bars  was  put  across  his  windows.  He  asked 
the  captain  of  the  party,  the  reason  of  this  new  rivet  on 
his  captivity,  but  he  received  no  answer.  His  own  re- 
collection, however,  solved  the  doubt ;  for  he  could  not 
but  see  that  his  declaration  respecting  his  friendship 
with  Wallace,  had  so  alarmed  Edward  that  his  present 
confinement  was  likely  to  terminate  in  death.  One  of  the 
sentinels,  on  having  the  same  inquiry  put  to  him  which 
Bruce  had  addressed  to  his  superiour,  in  a  rough  tone 
told  him  that  he  had  best  not  ask  too  siany  questions, 
Jest  he  should  hear  that  his  majesty  had  determined  to 
keep  him  under  Bishop  Beck*s  pad-lock  for  life.  Bruce 
-was  not  to  be  deprived  of  hope  by  a  single  evidence, 
and  smiling,  said — "  There  are  more  ways  of  getting 
out  of  a  tyrant's  prison,  than  by  the  doors  and  windows  1" 
*' Why,  you  would  not  eat  through  the  walls  ?"  cried 
the  man.  "  Certainly,"  replied  Bruce,  "  if  I  have  nc 
other  way  ;  and  through  the  guards  too." — ^ — "  We'll 
:  see  to  that,'*  answered  the  man.  "  And  feel  it  too,  my 
sturdy  soldier;"  returned  the  prince,  "  so  look  to  your- 
self.'* Bruce  threw  himself  carelessly  into  a  chair  as 
he  spoke  ;  and  the  man  eyeing  him  askance,  and  remem- 
bering how  strangely  the  minstrel   had  disappeared 


190  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

from  within  the  walls  of  the  tower,  now  began  to  think 
that  people  born  in  Scotland  inherited  some  natiiral 
necromantic  power  of  executing  wliatever  they  deter- 
mined. "  And  I  am  determined,"  muttered  he  to 
himself;  "  never  again  to  take  this  guard  while  a  Scot- 
tish lord  remains  in  the  castle  I" 

Bruce,  though  careless  in  his  ma.nner  of  treating 
the  soldier's  information,  thought  of  it  with  some  de- 
gree of  anxiety  ;  as  certainly  the  additional  barricadoes 
did  argue  a  longer  sojourn  in  his  prison  than  he  had  at 
first  anticipated.  Lost  in  reflections  chequered  with 
hope  and  doubts  of  his  ever  effecting  his  escape  from 
such  an  iron  prison,  he  remained  immoveable  on  the 
spot  where  the  smiths  and  the  soldier  had  left  him,  till 
another  sentinel  brought  in  his  lamp.  He  set  it  down 
in  silence,  and  withdrew ;  and  then  Bruce  heard  the 
bolts  on  the  outside  of  his  chamber  door  pushed  into 
their  guards. — "  There  they  go  T'  said  he  to  himself; 
"  And  those  are  to  be  the  morning  and  evening  sounds 
to  which  I  am  to  listen  all  my  days  !  At  least  Edward 
would  have  it  so.  Such  is  the  gratitude  he  shews  to  the 
man  who  restored  to  him  his  wife  ;  who  restored  to  him 
the  consciousness  of  yet  possessing  that  unsullied  hon- 
our, which  is  so  dear  to  every  married  man  !^ — Well, 
Edward  ;  kindness  might  bind  generous  minds  even  to 
forget  their  rights ;  but  thanks  to  you,  neither  in  my 
own  person,  nor  for  any  of  my  name,  do  I  owe  you  apught 
but  a  sight  of  me  as  King  of  Scotland  :  and,  please 
God,  that  you  shall  see  ;  if  the  prayers  of  one  that  trusts 
in  him,  can,  like  the  ministering  angels  to  Peter,  open 
these  double  steeled  gates  to  set  me  free  !" 

While  invocations  to  the  power  in  Avhich  he  confided 
and  resolutions  respecting  the  consquences  of  his  hop- 
ed for  liberty,  by  turns  occupied  his  mind,  he  heard  the 
light  tread  of  afoot  in  the  adjoining  passage.  He  list- 
ened breathlessly,  for  no  living  creature,  he  thought 
could  be  in  that  quarter  of  the  building,  as  he  had  suf- 
fered none  to  enter  it  since  by  it  Wallace  had  disap- 
peared. He  half  rose  from  his  couch,  as  the  door  at 
which  he  had  seen  him  last,  gently  opened.  He  started 
lip,  and  Gloucester,  withahntern  in  his  hand,  stood  be- 
fore him.     The  earl  put  his  finger  on  his  lip,  and  taking 


y 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  191 

Bru«e  by  the  hand,  led  him,  as  he  had  done  WallacCj 
do'vn  into  the  vault  which  leads  to  Fincklay  Abbey. 

When  once  in  that  subterraneous  cloister  with  the 
entrance  firmly  secured  behind  them,  as  they  advanced 
along,  the  earl  replied  to  the  impatient  gratitude  of 
Bruce,  (who  saw  that  the  generous  Gloucester  meant 
that  he  should  follow  the  steps  of  his  friend  ;)  by  giving 
him  a  succinct  account  of  his  motives  for  changing  his 
first  determination,'  and  now  giving  him  liberty.  He  had 
not  visited  Bruce  since  the  escape  of  Wallace,  that  he 
might  not  excite  any  new  suspicion  in  Edward ;  and  the 
tower  being  fast  locked  at  every  usual  avenue,  he  had 
now  entej-ed  it  from  the  Fincklay  side.  He  then  pro- 
ceeded to  inform  Bruce,  that  after  his  magnanimous  for- 
getfulness  of  his  own  safety  to  insure  that  of  the  queen 
liad  produced  a  reconciliation  between  her  and  her  hus- 
band, Lord  Buchan,  Soulis,  and  Athol,  and  one  or  two 
English  lords,  joined  next  day  to  persuade  the  king  that 
Bruce's  avowal  respecting  Wallace  having  been  really 
in  the  castle,  was  an  invention  of  his  own  to  screen  some 
baser  friend  and  his  royal  mistress.  They  succeeded  in 
re -awakening  some  doubts  in  Edward,  who  sending  for 
Gloucester,  said  to  him,  "  Unless  I  could  hear  from 
Wallace's  own  lips,  and  (that  in  my  case  is  impossible,) 
that  he  has  been  here,  and  that  my  wife  is  guiltless  of 
this  foul  stain,  I  must  ever  remain  in  horrible  suspense. 
These  cruel  Scots,  ever  fertile  in  maddening  sugges- 
tions, have  made  me  even  suspect  that  Bruce  had  other 
reasons  for  his  apparently  generous  risk  of  himself, 
than  a  love  of  justice." 

While  these  ideas  floated  in  the  mind  of  Edward, 
Bruce  was  more  closely  immured.  And  Gloucester 
having  received  the  promised  letter  from  Wallace,  de- 
termined to  lay  it  before  the  king.  Accordingly,  on  the 
first  opportunity,  the  earl,  one  morning,  stole  unobserv- 
ed into  the  presence  chamber  before  Edward  was  brought 
in.  He  laid  the  letter  under  his  majesty's  cushion.  As 
Gloucester  expected,  the  moment  the  king  saw  the  su- 
perscription he  knew  the  hand,  and  read  the  letter  twice 
over  to  himself  without  speaking  a  word.  But  the 
clouds  which  had  hung  on  his  countenance  all  passed 
away;  emd  with  a  smile  reaching  the  packet  to  Glou- 


m  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

cester,  he  desired  him  to  read  aloud  that  silencer  of  all 
doubts  respecting  the  honour  of  the  queen.  Glouces- 
ter obeyed :  and  the  astonished  nobles,  looking  on  each 
other,  one  and  all  assented  to  the  credit  that  was  to  be 
given  to  Wallace's  word,  and  deeply  regretted  having 
ever  joined  in  the  suspicion  against  her  majesty— Thus 
then  all  appeared  amicably  settled.  But  the  embers  of 
discord  still  glowed.  The  three  Scottish  lords,  afraid 
that  Bruce  would  again  be  taken  into  favour,  laboured 
to  shew  that  his  friendship  with  Wallace  pointed  to  his 
throwing  off  the  English  yoke  and  independently  as- 
suming the  Scottish  crown.  Edward  gave  too  ready 
credence  to  these  insinuations ;  and  complied  with 
Bishop  Beck's  request,  to  allow  him  to  hold  the  royal 
youth  his  prisoner.  But  while  the  Cummins  won  this 
victory  over  Bruce,  they  gained  nothing  for  themselves. 
They  had  ventured,  during  the  king's  vain  inquiries 
respecting  the  manner  in  which  Wallace's  letter  had 
been  conveyed  to  his  apartment,  to  throw  out  some  hints 
of  Bruce  having  been  the  agent  by  some  secret  means ; 
and  that  he,  however  innocent  the  queen  might  be,  cer- 
tainly, by  such  solicitude  for  her  exculpation,  evinced  an 
interest  in  her  person  which  might  prove  dangerous. 
These  latter  inuendoes,  the  king  crushed  in  the  first 
whisper.  "  I  have  done  enough  with  Robert  Bruce  ;" 
said  he,  "  he  is  condemned  a  prisoner  for  life  ;  and  mere 
suspicions  shall  never  provoke  me  to  give  sentence  for. 
his  death."  Irritated  with  this  reply  and  the  contemp- 
tuous glance  which  accompanied  it,  the  vindictive  tri- 
umvirate turned  from  the  king  to  his  court;  and  having 
failed  in  compassing  the  destruction  of  Bruce  and  his 
more  renowned  friend,  they  determined  at  least  to  make 
a  wreck  of  their  moral  fame.  The  guit  of  Wallace 
and  the  queen,  and  -the  participation  of  Bruce,  were 
now  whispered  through  every  circle ;  and  credited  in 
proportion  to  the  evil  dispositions  of  the  hearers. 

One  of  his  pages  at  last  brought  to  the  ears  of  the 
king  the  stories  which  these  lords  so  busily  circulated  ; 
and  sending  for  them,  he  gave  them  so  severe  a  repri- 
mand, that  retiring  from  his  presence  in  stifled  wrath, 
they  determined  to  accept  the  invitation  of  young  Lord 
Badenoch,  return  to  their  country,  and  support  him  in 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  193 

the  regency.  Next  morning,  Edward  was  informed 
that  they  had  secretly  left  Durham,  with  all  their  follow- 
ers ;  and  fearing  that  Bruce  might  also  make  his  es- 
cape, a  consultation  was  held  between  the  king  and  Beck? 
of  so  threatening  a  complexion,  that  Gloucester  no  lon« 
ger  hesitated  immediately  to  fulfil  his  pledged  word  to 
Wallace,  and  give  the  Scottish  prince  his  liberty.  When 
he  was  free  the  utmost  that  he  could  effect  against  Ed- 
[ward,  would  be  to  assume  the  crown  of  Scotland  :  "  And. 
|that,"  thought  Gloucester,  "  is  only  his  right.  Hence  I 
cannot  believe  I  am  d«ing  a  disloyal  thing  to  my  king, 
when  I  obey  the  holy  injunction  :  Helti  the  ojifiressed 
to  his  otvn  ;  and  partake  not  in  the  iniquity  of  the  evil 
doers  .'" 

Impelled  by  these  sentiments,  Gloucester  led  Bruce 
in  safety  through  the  vaulted  passage ;  and  taking  an 
affectionate  leave  of  him,  they  parted  in  the  cemetery  of 
Fincklay  ;  Gloucester,  to  walk  back  to  Durham  by  the 
banks  of  the  Wear :  and  Bruce,  to  mount  the  horse  the 
good  earl  had  prepared,  and  left  tied  to  a  tree,  to  convey 
him  to  Hartlepool.  There  he  embarked  for  Normandy. 
When  \ic  arrived  at  Caen,  he  did  not  delay ;  but  pursu- 
ing his  way  across  the  country  towards  Guienne,  where 
he  hoped  to  meet  Wallace,  night  and  the  storm  over- 
took him  ;  he  lost  his  way ;  and  after  much  wandering, 
at  last,  directed  by  the  lights  which  glimmered  from  the 
cottage  windows,  he  reached  the  door,  begged  for  shel- 
ter— "  And,"  added  he,  "  was  compensated  for  every 
toil  and  suffering,  by  the  sight  of  my  best  and  dearest 
friend  1" 

The  discourse  next  turned  on  their  future  plans. 
Wallace,  having  mentioned  his  adventure  with  the  Red 
Keaver,  and  the  acknowledgments  of  Philip  for  the  res- 
cue of  his  son,  proposed  that  the  favour  he  should  ask 
in  return,  (as  the  King  of  France  seemed  very  earnest 
to  bestow  on  him  some  especial  mark  of  gratitude ;) 
would  be  his  interference  with  Edward  to  grant  the 
Scots  a  peaceable  retention  of  their  rights,  "  And  then," 
said  he  to  Bruce,  "  you  will  take  possession  of  your 
kingdom,  with  the  olive  branch  in  your  hand."  Bruce 
ohHed,  but  shook  his  head ;  "  And  what  then  will  Ro- 
cai:^  Bruce  be  ?  A  king,  to  be  sure  I  but  a  king  without 

Vi.  II.  R 


194  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

a  name.  Who  won  me  my  kingdom  ?  Who  accomplish^ 
ed  this  peace  ?  Was  it  not  William  Wallace  ?  Can  I 
then  consent  to  mount  the  throne  of  my  ancestors,  so 
poor,  so  inconsiderable  a  creature  ?  I  am  not  jealous  of 
your  fame,  Wallace  ;  I  glory  in  it ;  for  you  are  more  to 
me  than  the  light  to  my  eyes :  but  I  would  prove  my 
right  to  the  crown  by  deeds  worthy  of  a  sovereign.  Till 
I  have  so  shewn  myself  in  the  field  against  Scotland's 
enemies,  I  cannot  consent  to  be  restored  to  my  inheri- 
tance, even  by  you.'* 

"  And  is  it  in  war  alone,"  returned  Wallace,  "  that? 
you  can  shew  deeds  worthy  of  a  sovereign  ?  Think  a 
moment,  my  dear  friend,  and  then  scorn  your  objection. 
Look  around  on  the  annals  of  history  ;  nay,  before  your 
eyes,  on  the  daily  occurrences  of  the  world,  and  see 
how  many  are  brave  and  complete  generals  ;  how  few, 
"wise  legislators,  and  such  efficient  rulers  as  to  produce 
obedience  to  the  lav/s,  and  happiness  to  the  people. 
This  is  the  commission  of  a  king  :  to  be  the  represen- 
tative on  earth  of  our  father  who  is  in  heaven.  Here  is 
exercise  for  courage,  for  enterprise,  for  fortitude,  for 
every  virtue  which  elevates  the  character  of  man  :  this 
is  the  god-like  jurisdiction  of  a  sovereign.  To  go  to 
the  field,  to  lead  his  people  to  scenes  of  carnage,  is  of- 
ten a  duty  in  kings  ;.  but  it  is  one  of  those  necessities 
which,  more  than  the  trifling  circumstances  of  sustain- 
ing nature  by  sleep  and  food,  reminds  the  conqueror  of 
the  degraded  state  of  mortality.  The  one  shews  the 
weakness  of  the  body,  the  other,  the  corruption  of  the 
soul.  For  how  far  must  man  have  fallen  beneath  his  j 
former  heavenly  nature,  before  he  can  delight  in  the 
destruction  of  his  fellow  men  !  Lament  not,  then,  brave 
and  virtuous  prince,  that  I  have  kept  your  hands  from 
the  stains  of  blood.  Shew  yourself  beyond  the  vulgar 
appreciation  of  what  is  fame ;  and  conscious  of  the 
powers  with  which  the  Creator  has  endowed  you,  as- 
sume your  throne  with  the  dignity  that  is  their  due  : — 
and  whether  it  be  in  the  cabinet  or  iii^he  field  that  He 
calls  you  to  act,  there  obey,  and  rely  on  it  that  a  name 
greater  than  that  of  the  hero  of  Macedon  will  aw?.h, 
Robert  King  of  Scots  !"  "  You  almost  persuade  mord 
-eturned  Bruce.  <'  But  let  us  see  Philip  and  then  I  in  in 
^-leride." 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  195 

I  As  the  morning  was  now  advanced,  the  friends  turned 
'towards  the  cottage,  intending  to  see  Baliol  safe  at 
I  Rouen,  and  then  proceed  together  to  Guienne  to  the 
1  rescue  of  Lady  Helen;  after  which,  they  hoped  suc- 
Icessful  enterprise,  they  would  visit  Paris,  and  hear  its 
^monarch's  determination. 

I     On  entering  the  hovel  they  found  Baliol  awake,  and 
1  anxiously  inquiring  of  the  widow  what  was  become  of 
jthe  two  young  knights.     At  sight  of  them  he  stretched 
out  his  hands  to  both,  and  said  he  was  so  revived  by 
lliis  sleep,  that  he  should  be  able  to  travel  in  a  few 
Ihours.     Wallace  proposed  sending  to  Rouen  for  a  lit- 
jter  to  carry  him  the  more  easily  thither.     "  No,"  cried 
I  Baliol  with  a  frown,  "  Rouen  shall  never  again  see  me 
I  within  its  walls.     It  was  coming  from  thence  that  I  lost 
imy  way  last  night;  and  though  my  poor  servants  would 
have  gladly  returned  thither  with  me,  sooner  than  suf- 
fer me  to  perish  in  the  storm ;  yet,  rather  would   I 
have  been  found  dead  on  the  road,  a  reproach  to  the 
kings  who  have  betrayed  me,  than  have  taken  an  hour's 
1  shelter  in  that  inhospitable  city." 
j     After  some  questions  from  the  friends,  Baliol,  while 
j!  they  took  the  simple  breakfast  prepared  for  them  by  the 
i  widow,  related,  that  in  consequence  of  the  interference 
of  Philip  le  Bel  with  Edward,  he  had  been  released 
jfrom  the  Tower  of  London,  and  sent  to  France,  under 
!  an  oath  never  again  to  leave  that  country.     Philip  then 
1  gave  the  exiled  king  the  Castle  of  Galliard  for  a  resi- 
[  dence,  where  he  was  soon  joined  by  several  of  his  old 
I  adherents  from  Scotland.     But  his  luxurious  son,  una- 
ble to  exist  divided  from  the  pleasures  of  a  gay  court, 
abandoned  his   father,   and  went  to   Navarre ;   madly 
hoping  to  be  elevated  to  the  hand  of  its  sovereign's 
daughter.     Baliol  for  some  time  enjoyed  his  shadow  of 
royalty  at  Galliard  ;  as  he  still  had  a  sort  of  court,  com- 
posed of  the  followers  who  were  with  him,  and  of  the 
barons  in  the   neighbourhood.      Philip   allowed   hira 
guards,  and  a  spjh^ndid  table.     But  on  the  peace  being 
signed   between   France  and   England ;  that  Edward 
might  give  up  his  ally   the    Earl  of  Flanders  to  his 
offended  liege  lord,  Philip  consented  to  relinquish  the 
cause  of  Baliol,  and  though  he  should  still  give  hirr^ 


196  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

shelter  in  his  dotninions,  remove  from  him  all  tlie  ap- 
pendages of  a  king. 

"Accordingly,"  continued  Baliol,  "the  guard  was- 
taken  from  my  gates,  my  establishment  was  reduced  to 
that  of  a  private  nobleman  ;  and  no  longer  having  it  in 
my  power  to  gratify  the  avidity,  or  to  flatter  the  ambi- 
tion of  those  who  came  about  me,  I  was  soon  left  alone. 
All  but  the  poor  old  men  whom  you  sec,  and  who  had 
been  faithful  to  me  through  every  change  of  my  life, 
instantly  deserted  the  forlorn  Baliol.  But  they  remain- 
ed ;  and  from  being  servants,  they  became  my  com- 
panions ;  for  none  other  ever  appealed  within  the  walls 
of  Galliard.  In  vaih  I  remonstrated  with  Philip  :  either 
my  letters  never  reached  him,  or  he  disdained  to  an- 
swer the  man  whose  cause  he  could  abandon.  Things 
were  in  this  state,  when  the  other  day  an  English  lord, 
who  had  been  stranded  off  the  coast,  brought  his  suite 
to  my  castle.  I  received  him  with  hospitality;  but 
soon  found  that  what  I  gave  in  kindness,  he  seized  as  a 
right ; — in  the  true  spirit  of  his  master  Edward,  he 
treated  me  more  like  the  keeper  of  an  inn  than  a  gener- 
ous host:  and  such  was  his  insolence,  on  my  attemp-ting 
to  plead  with  him  for  a  Scottish  lady  whom  his  turbu- 
lent passions  has  forced  from  her  country  and  reduced 
to  a  pitiable  state  of  illness,  that  he  laughed  at  my 
arguments,  and  told  me,  that  had  I  taken  more  care  of 
my  kingdom,  the  door  would  not  have  been  left  open 
for  him  to  steal  away  its  fairest  prize ." 

Wallace  interrapted  him — "  Heaven  grant  that  you 
may  be  speaking  of  Lord  de  Valence  and  Lady  Helen 
Mar  1*'  « I  am,"  replied  Baliol,  "  but  surely  Sir  Wil- 
liam Wallace  cannot  rejoice  in  his  countrywoman  being 
likely  to  be  made  tlie  compulsive  property  of  any 
Southron  lord  ?"  "  No  ;'*  replied  he,  "  but  I  rejoice  in 
finding  them  so  near,  I  rejoice  in  the  opportunity  of  so 
soon  performing  my  word  to  her  dying  father,  in  rescu- 
ing her  from  the  villain's  arms."  "  They  are  now  at 
Galliard,"  returned  Baliol,  "  and  as  her  illness  seems  a 
lingering  one,  De  Valence  declared  to  me  his  inten- 
tions of  continuing  there.  He  seized  upon  the  best 
apartments,  and  carried  himself  with  so  much  haughti- 
ness that,  provoked  beyond  endurance,  I  ordered  my 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS,  197 

horse,  and  accompanied  by  my  honest  men  rode  to 
Rouen  to  obtain  redress  from  the  governor.  But  the 
unworthy  Frenchman  told  me  with  a  look  of  derision 5 
that  his  master  having  more  respect  for  one  English 
earl  than  for  all  the  dethroned  monarchs  in  Christen- 
dom, he  advised  me  to  go  back,  and  by  flattering  De 
Valence,  try  to  regain  the  favour  of  Edward.  I  retired 
in  indignation,  determining  to  assert  my  own  rights  in 
my  own  castle  ;  but  the  storm  overtook  me,  and  after 
being  abandoned  by  my  friends,  I  was  saved  by  my  ene- 
mies."— — "  Then  you  mean  now  to  return  to  Galli- 
ard?" — inquired  Wallace.  "  Immediately  :  and  if  you 
will  go  with  me,  I  will  engage,  if  the  lady  consent^ 
(and  that  I  do  not  doubt,  for  she  scorns  all  his  prayers 
for  her  hand,  and  passes  night  and  day  in  tears ;)  to  as- 
sist in  her  escape." "  That,*'  Wallace  replied,  "  was 

precisely  what  I  was  going  to  request." 

Baliol  advised  that  they  should  not  all  return  to  the- 
castle  together,  as  the  sight  of  two  knights  of  their 
appearance  accompanying  hisvvhost,  would  alarm  De 
Valence; — and  so  some  bloody  fray  might  succeed* 
•*  The  quietest  way/'  said  the  deposed  king,  "  is  the 
surest.  Follow  me  at  a  short  distance ;  and  towards  the 
shadows  of  evening  knock  at  the  gates  and  request  a 
night's  entertainment.  I  will  grant  it;  and  then  your 
happy  destiny,  evey  fortunate  Wallace,  must  do  the 
rest." 

This  scheme  being  approved,  a  litter  of  hurdles  was 
soon  formed  for  the  invalid  monarch,  and  the  old  wo- 
man's pallet  spread  upon  it,  "  I  will  return  it  to  youj 
my  good  widow,"  said  Baliol,  "  and  with  other  proofs 
of  my  gratitude."  The  two  friends  then  assisted  the 
king  to  rise.  And  when  Baliol  set  his  foot  to  the  floor, 
he  felt  so  surprisingly  better,  that  he  thought  he  could 
ride  the  journey.  Wallace  over-ruled  this  wish  for 
fear  of  further  delays  ;  and  with  Bruce,  supported  his 
emaciated  figure  towards  the  door.  The  widow  stood 
to  see  her  guests  depart.  Baliol,  as  he  mounted  his 
travelling  machine,  put  a  piece  of  gold  into  her  hand. 
Wallace  saw  not  what  the  king  had  given,  and  gave  a 
purse  as  his  reward.  Bruce  had  nought  to  bestow» 
He  had  left  Durham  with  little,  and  that  little  was  ex- 


198  TPIE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

pendecl.  "  My  good  widow,"  said  he,  "  I  am  poor  in 
every  thing  but  gratitude.  In  lieu  of  gold  you  must 
accept  my  prayers  !"  "  May  they,  sweet  youth,"  replied 
she,  "  return  on  your  own  head,  and  give  you  bread 
from  the  barren  land,  and  water  out  of  the  sterile 
rock  !"  "  And  have  you  no  blessing  for  me,  mother  1" 
said  Wallace,  tifirning  round,  and  regarding  her  with 
an  impressive  look  ;  "  Some  spirit  that  you  wist  not  of, 
speaks  in  your  words."  "  Then  it  must  be  a  good 
spirit,'*  answered  she,  "  for  all  that  is  around  me  be- 
tokens gladness.  The  scripture  saith.  Be  kind  to  the 
■-^•^ay 'faring  7nan,  for  many  have  so  entertairied  a?igeU 
miaivares  /  Yesterday  at  this  time,  I  was  poor  and  in 
misery.  Last  night  I  opened  my  doors  in  the  storm, 
you  entered  and  gave  me  riches,  he  follows  and  endows 
me  with  his  prayers  !  Am  I  not  then  greatly  favoured 
by  him  who  giveth  bread  to  all  who  trust  in  him  ?  From 
this  day  forth,  I  will  light  a  fire  each  night  in  a  part  of 
tny  house  where  it  must  be  seen  on  every  side  from  a 
great  distance.  Like  )  ou,  princely  knight,  whose  gold 
will  make  it  burn,  it  shall  shine  afar,  and  give  light  and 
comfort  to  all  who  approach  it."  "  And  when  you  look 
on  it,"  said  Wallace,  "  tell  your  beads  for  me.  I  am  a 
son  of  war;  and  it  may  blaze  when  my  vital  spark  is 
just  expiring."  The  widow  paused,  gazed  on  him 
steadily,  and  then  burst  into  tears.  *'  And  is  it  possi- 
ble that  beautiful  face  may  be  laid  in  dust,  that  youth- 
ful form,  lie  cold  in  clay,  and  these  aged  limbg  survive 
to  light  a  beacon  to  your  memory  !  and  it  shall  arise  I 
It  shall  burn  like  a  holy  flame,  an  incense  to  heaven  f«r 
the  soul  of  him  who  has  succoured  the  feeble,  and 
made  the  widow's  heart  to  sing  for  joy  i"  Wallace  pres- 
sed the  old  woman's  withered  hand  :  Bruce  did  the 
same.  She  saw  them  mount  their  horses,  and  when 
they  disappeared  from  her  eyes,  she  returned  into  her 
cottage  and  wept. 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS,  199 


CHAP.  XVIII. 

W^HEN  Baliol  arrived  within  a  few  miles  of  Chateau 
Galliard,  he  pointed  to  a  wood,  and  told  Wallace  that 
under  its  groves  he  had  best  shelter  himself  till  the  set- 
ting sun ;  soon  after  which  he  should  expect  him  and 
Bruce  at  the  castle. 

Long  indeed  seemed  the  interval.  It  usually  hap- 
pens that  in  contemplating  a  project,  w^hile  the  period 
of  its  execution  appears  distant,  we  think  on  it  with 
composure ;  but  when  the  time  of  action  is  near,  when 
w^e  only  wait  the  approach  of  an  auxiliary,  or  the  lapse 
of  an  hour  ;  every  passing  moment  appears  an  age,  and 
the  impatient  soul  seems  ready  to  break  every  bound  to 
grasp  the  completion  of  its  enterprise.  So  Wallace  now 
felt;  feltas  he  had  never  done  before:  for  in  all  his  warlike 
exploits,  each  achievement  had  followed  the  moment  of 
resolve ;  but  here,  he  was  delayed  to  grow  in  ardor  as 
he  contemplated  an  essay  in  which  every  generous 
principle  of  man  was  summoned  into  action.  He  was 
going  to  rescue  from  the  hands  of  a  ravisher,the  daugh- 
ter of  a  brave  veteran,  his  first  friend  in  the  great  strug- 
gle, one  who  had  fallen  in  the  cause.  A  daughter  who, 
by  her  intrepidity  had  once  saved  Scotland  ;  a  helpless 
woman  in  the  hands  of  a  man  of  violence  !  Glad  was  he 
then  to  see  the  sun  sink  behind  the  western  hills, 
Bruce  and  he  closed  their  visors,  mounted  their  horses, 
and  set  off  on  full  speed  towards  the  chateau. 

When  they  came  in  view  of  the  antique  towers  of 
Galliard,  they  slackened  their  pace  and  more  leisurely 
advanced  to  the  gates.  The  bugle  of  Wallace  dem^i- 
ded  admittance  ;  a  courteous  assent  w<is  brought  by  the 
warder,  and  the  friends  were  conducted  into  a  room 
where  Baliol  sat  in  a  large  chair.  De  Valence  was 
walking  to  and  fro  in  a  great  chafe  ;  he  started  at  sight 
of  the  princely  armour  of  Wallace,  (for  he,  as  Baliol 
had  done,  conceived  from  the  lilied  diadem  that  the 
stranger  must  be  of  the  royal  house  of  France,)  and 
composing  his  turbulent  spirit,  he  bowed  respectfully 
to  the  supposed  prince.  Wallace  returned  the  saluta- 
tion ;  and  Baliol.rising,  accosted  him  with  no  incons!d= 


xoo  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

erable  degree  of  animation.  He  at  once  saw  the  mis- 
take of  De  Valence,  and  perceived  how  greatly  it  would 
facilitate  the  execution  of  their  project. 

On  his  return  to  the  chateau,  De  Valence  had  recei- 
ved him  with  more  than  his  usual  insolence  ;  for  the 
governor  of  Rouen  had  sent  him  an  account  of  the  des- 
pised monarch's  complaint  to  him — And  when  the  des- 
potic lord  heard  the  sound  of  the  bugle  at  the  great 
gate,  and  learnt  that  it  was  the  request  of  two  travelling 
knights  to  be  admitted  to  lodging,  he  flew  to  Baliol  in 
displeasure  to  command  him  to  recall  his  granted  leave. 
—At  the  moment  of  his  wrath,  Wallace  entered,  and 
covered  him  with  confusion.  Struck  with  seeing  a 
French  prince  in  one  of  the  persons  he  was  going  to 
treat  with  such  indignity,  he  shrunk  into  himself,  and 
bowed  before  him,  with  all  the  cowering  meanness  of 
his  base  and  haughty  soul.  Wallace  felt  his  pre-emi- 
nence, and  bent  his  head  in  acknowledgment,  with  a  ma- 
jesty which  convinced  the  earl  that  he  was  not  mista- 
ken. Baliol  welcomed  his  guest  in  a  manner  not  to 
dispel  the  earl's  error. 

"Happy  am  I,"  cried  he,  "  that  the  hospitality  which 
John  Baliol  intended  to  shew  to  a  mere  traveller,  con- 
fers on  him  the  disti'iction  of  serving  one  of  a  race 
whose  favour  confers  protection,  and  its  friendship  ho- 
nour." Wallace  returned  a  gracious  reply  to  this 
speech ;  for  though  he  might  well  apply  it  to  himself, 
yet  he  guessed  that  it  was  intended  to  mislead  De  Va- 
lence, and  turning  to  Bruce,  he  said,  "  This  knight  is  my 
friend;  and  though  neither  of  us,  from  particular  cir- 
cumstances choose  to  disclose  our  names,  whatever  they 
may  be,  during  this  journey,  yet  you  will  confide  in  the 
word  of  one  whom  you  have  Honoured  by  the  address 
you  have  now  made,  and  believe  that  his  friend  is  not  un- 
v/orthy  the  hospitalities  of  him  who  was  once  King  of 
Scots.'' 

De  Valence  now  approached,  and  announcing  who 
he  was,  assured  the  knights,  in  the  name  of  the  king  of 
England,  whom  he  was  going  to  represent  in  Guienne, 
of  every  respect  from  himself  and  assistance  from  his  re- 
tinue, to  bring  them  properly  on  their  way.  *'  I  return 
you  the  thanks  due  to  your  courtesy/'  replied  Wallace, 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  201 

*^  and  shall  certainly  remain  to-night  a  burthen  to  King 
Baliol,  but  in  the  morning  we  must  depart  as  we  came, 
having  a  vow  to  perform  which  excludes  the  service  of 
attendants." 

A  splendid  supper  was  soon  served,  at  the  board  of 
which De  Valence  sat  as  well  as  Baliol.     The  English 
earl  never  withdrew  from  the  moment  that  the  strangers 
entered,  so  cautious  was  he  to  prevent  Baliol  informing 
his  illustrious  guests   of  the  captivity  of  Lady  Helen 
Mar.     Wallace  ate  nothing  ;  he  sat  with  his  visor  still 
closed,  and  almost  in  profound  silence,  never  speaking 
but  when  spoken  to,  and  then  only  answering  in  as  few 
words  as  possible.     De  Valence  supposed  that  this  ta= 
citurnity  was  connected  with  his  vow,  and  did  not  fur- 
ther remark  it:  but  Bruce  (who  at  Caen  had  furnished 
himself  with  a  complete  suit  of  black  armour)  appeared, 
though  equally  invisible  under  his  visor,  infinitely  more 
accessible.     The  humbler  fashion  of  his  martial  accou- 
trement did  not  announce  the  prince,  but  his  carriage 
was  so  noble,  his  conversation  bespoke  so  accomplished 
a  mind  and  brave  a  spirit,  that  De  Valence  did  not  doubt 
that  both  the  men  before  him  were  of  the  royal  family. 
He  had  never  seen  Charles  de  Valois,  and  believing  that 
he  now  saw  him  in  Wallace,  he  directed  all  that  dis- 
course to  Bruce  which  he  meant  should  reach  the  ear  of 
De  Valois,  and  from  him  pass  to  that  of  the  King  of 
France.     Bruce  saw  what  was  passing  in  his  mind,  and 
with  as  much  amusement  in  the  scene,  a«  design,  he  led 
forward  the  earl's  mistake,  but  rather  by  allowing  him. 
to  deceive  himself,  than  by  any  active  m,eans  on  his  side 
to  increase  the  deception.     De  Valence  threw  out  hints 
respecting  a  frontier  town  in  Guienne,  north  of  the  Ga- 
ronne, which  he  thought  his  royal  master  could  be  per- 
suaded to  yield  to  the  French  monarch,  as  naturally  be- 
longing to  Gascony.     But  then  the  affair  must  be  pro- 
perly laid  before  him  ;  and  that  De  Valence  said  he  be- 
lieved, had  he  motive  to  investigate  some  parchments 
in  his  possession,  he  might  be  able  to  do,  and  to  convince 
Edward  of  the  superior  claims  of  the  French  king.  And 
then  casting  out  hints  of  the  right  he  had  by  his  ances- 
tors, to  the  seigniory  of  Valence  in  Dauphiny  j  he,  in 
short,  after  much  circumlocution,  gave  them  to  under- 


202  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

stand,  that  if  Philip  would  either  invest  him  with  tht;   • 
revenues  of  Valence  on  the  Rhone,  or  give  him  some 
equivalent,  he  would  engage  that  the  town  in  question 
should  be  delivered  to  France. 

Baliol,  nothwithstanding  his  resolution  to  keep  awake 
and  assist  his  friends  in  their  enterprise,  was  so  over- 
come by  his  late  fatigue,  that  he  had  fallen  asleep  soon 
after  supper,  and  so  gave  De  Valence  full  opportunity 
to  unveil  his  widely-grasping  mind  to  Bruce.  Wallace 
now  saw  that  the  execution  of  his  project  must  depend 
wholly  on  himself:  and  how  to  inform  Helen  that  he 
was  in  the  castle,  and  of  his  plan  to  get  her  out  of  it, 
hardly  occupied  him  more  than  what  to  devise  to  de- 
tain De  Valence  in  the  eating-room  while  he  went  out 
:o  prosecute  his  design.  As  these  thoughts  absorbed 
him,  by  an  unconscious  movement  he  turned  towards 
the  English  earl.  De  Valence  paused  and  looked  at 
him,  supposing  he  was  going  to  speak ;  but  finding 
that  he  did  not,  the  earl  addressed  him  with  some  he- 
sitation, feeling  an  inexplicable  awe  of  directly  saying 
to  him  what  he  had  so  easily  uttered  to  his  more  ap- 
proachable companion  ;  "  I  seek  not,  illustrious  stran- 
ger," said  he,  *'  to  inquire  the  name  you  have  already 
intimated  must  be  concealed;  but  I  have  sufficient 
faith  in  that  brilliant  circlet  round  your  brows  to  be 
convinced  (as  none  other  than  the  royal  hand  of  Philip 
could  bestow  it)  that  it  distinguishes  a  man  of  the  first 
honour.  You  nov/  know  my  sentiments,  prince  ;  and 
for  the  advantage  of  both  kings,  I  confide  them  to  your 
services."  Wallace  rose  :  "  Whether  I  am  prince  or 
vassal,"  replied  he,  "  my  services  shall  ever  be  given  in 
the  cause  of  justice,  and  of  that  Earl  De  Valence,  you 
will  be  convinced  when  next  you  hear  of  me.  My 
friend,"  cried  he,  turning  to  Bruce,  ''  you  will  remain 
with  our  host,  while  I  go  to  the  vigils  of  my  vow." 

Bruce  understood  him.  It  was  not  merely  with 
their  host  he  was  to  remain,  but  to  detain  De  Valence  ; 
and  opening  at  once  the  versatile  powers  of  his  abund- 
ant mind,  his  vivacity  charmed  the  earl,  while  the  mag- 
nificence of  his  views  in  policy  corroborated  the  idea  to 
De  Valence  that  he  was  conversing  with  one,  whose 
birth  had  placed  him  beyond  even  the  temptations  of 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  20S 

I  those  ambitions  which,  in  the  midst  of  the  earl's  pas- 
sion for  Helen,  were  at  that  moment  subjecting  his 
soul  to  every  species  of  flattery,  meanness,  and  in  fact, 
disloyalty.     Bruce,  in  his  turn,  listened  to  all  De  Va- 
lence's dreams  of  agrandizement  with  much  apparent 
interest;  and   recollecting  his  reputation  for  a  love  of 
j  wine,  he  replenished  his  glass  so  often  that  the  fumes 
I  made  him  forget  all  reserves  ;  and  after  pouring  forth 
rthe  whole  history  of  his  attachment  to  Helen,  and  his 
[resolution  to  subdue  her  abhorence  by  love  and  gran- 
j  deur,  he  gradually  lowered  his  key,  and  at  last  fell  fast 
I  asleep. 

j  Meanwhile,  Wallace,  as  soon  as  he  quitted  the  ban- 
j  queting  chamber,  wrapped  himself  in  Baliol's  blue 
j  cloak  which  lay  in  the  anti-room,  (for  he  had  observed 
jthatDe  Valence  Avore  a  similar  one  at  supper)  and 
determining  to  pass  to  Helen's  apartment  as  the  earl, 
he  enveloped  even  his  helmet  in  the  friendly  mantle, 
and  moving  swiftly  along  the  gallery  was  met  by  a 
page.  "  Precede  me  with  a  light,"  said  he,  affecting 
the  rough  voice  of  De  Valence,  "first  to  the  stranger 
knight's  apartment,  and  then  to  my  lady's."  The  boy, 
who  conceived  him  to  be  the  earl,  obeyed;  and  Wal- 
lace, having  seen  that  all  was,  as  he  had  planned  with 
Baliol,  in  the  chamber  appointed  for  him,  followed 
his  conducter  to  Lady  Helen's  door.  There  he  made  a 
sign  to  be  left. It  was  now  within  an  hour  of  mid- 
night. He  opened  the  latch.  Two  women  lay  on 
couches  on  each  side  of  the  door.  These  were  crea- 
tures of  De  Valence.  They  started  up  at  the  noise, 
but  he,  waving  his  hand  to  them  to  he  quiet,  they,  sup- 
posing it  v/as  their  master,  again  composed  themselves 
to  rest.  He  then  took  the  lamp  that  burnt  on  the  table, 
and  approached  the  bed  of  Helen.  He  covered  the 
light  with  his  hand,  that  it  might  not  glare  in  her 
eyes  while  he  observed  her.  She  was  in  a  profound 
sleep,  but  pale  as  the  sheet  which  enveloped  her: — her 
countenance  seemed  troubled,  hev  brows  frequently 
knit  themselves,  and  she  started  as  she  dreamt,  as  if 
in  apprehension.  Once  he  heard  her  lips  faintly  mur- 
mur, "  Save  me,  Wallace  !  on  you  alone "  there 

she  stepped.    Ilis  heart  beat  at  this  appeal.     '^  I  come 


204  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

to  save  thee,"  he  would  have  cried,  but  he  checked  the 
exclamation  :  his  hand,  in  agitation,  dropped  at  the 
same  instant  from  before  the  lamp,  and  the  blaze  strik- 
ing full  on  her  eyes,  waked  her.  She  looked  up ;  she 
saw,  as  she  supposed,  her  dream  realized,  De  Valence 
leaning  over  hei  bed,  and  herself  wholly  in  his  power: 
— for  she  knew  not  that  the  compassionate  Baliol  had 
retvirned.  She  shrieked  with  a  cry  of  such  distress  as 
went  through  the  soul  of  Wallace.  The  women  raised 
themselves  upon  their  couches,  but  Wallace  repeating 
his  sign  to  them  to  remain  still,  they  obeyed.  Helen  co- 
vered herself  with  the  clothes,  and  trembling,  and  in 
broken  accents  called  on  God  to  preserve  her.  "  Lady 
Helen,"  whispered  he,  "  look  up;  for  a  moment,  look 
up."—"  No,  no,"  cried  she,  still  believing  it  was  De 
Valence,  "  Leave  me,  if  you  would  not  see  me  die,  for 
know  that  these  outrages  will  at  last  kill  me." 

Wallace  durst  not  breathe  his  name  for  fear  of  being  j 
overheard.  How  was  he  then  to  persuade  her  to  tijirn  ^ 
her  eyes  upon  him  ? — He  replied  in  rather  a  louder  and 
stern  voice,  "  Look  on  me,  Lady  Helen,  this  moment, 
or  dread  more  fearful  consequences.  Look  on  me,  and 
then  I  pledge  you  my  honour,  that  if  you  desire  it,  I 
never  will  see  you  more  !" — "  Ever  deceitful  De  Va- 
lence," cried  she,  "I  will  deserve  honour,  though  I 

meet  it  not, — I  will  look  on  you ;  and  release  me,  or 

Oh  !  God  of  life  and  death,  take  me  to  thyself  T*  *'  Look 
up  and  try  me,"  replied  Wallace.  The  visored  helmet, 
and  the  roughened  tone  in  which  he  spoke,  prevented 
her  distinguishing  that  it  was  other  than  the  voiee  of 
De  Valence,  and  with  atrembling  horror  which  made  the 
very  bed  shake  under  her,  she  drew  down  the  coverlid. 
At  the  first  motion  of  her  hands  to  unveil  her  face, 
'\Vallace  raised  the  visor  from  his,  and  holding  the 
lamp  so  that  she  should  see  him  distinctly,  at  the  mo- 
ment when  with  despair  in  her  heart  she  turned  her 
head  to  dart  a  glance  at  De  Valence  full  of  abhorrence, 
she  meet  the  eyes  dearest  to  her  on  earth — those  of 
Sir  William  Wallace.  A  cry  of  joy  would  have  es- 
caped her,  had  he  not  put  his  finger  on  his  lip;  but 
falling  back  on  her  bed,  the  joy  of  hope,  of  happiness, 
of  ao-ain  seeinc:  him  who  in  her   estimation  was  her 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS-.  205 

earthly  security,  her  all  here  now  that  her  father  was  no 
m!>re,  shook  her  with  such  strong  emotions  that  Wallace 
feared  to  see  her  delicate  frame  expire  in  the  tumult,  or 
at  least  find  repose  in  some  deadly  swoon.  Alarmed  for 
her  life,  or  the  accomplishment  of  her  deliverance,  he 
threw  himself  on  his  knees  beside  her,  and  softly  whis- 
pered, "Be  composed,  for  the  love  of  heaven  and  your 
own  safety  !  be  collected  and  firm,  and  you  shall  fly  this 
place  with  me  to-night."  Helen  with  all  the  fervor  of  her 
grateful  soul,  hardly  conscious  of  the  action,  grasped  the 
hand  that  held  hers  and  replied  "  I  vvill  obey,  command 

me,  I  will  obey/' ;-"Then  request  me,  vehemently  and 

loudly,  to  leave  the  room,  and  strike  the  lamp  from 
my  hand.''  Helen  again  looked  towards  him,  but  v/hile 
her  lips  obeyed,  her  heart  checked  the  words,  and  fee- 
ble was  the  injunction  with  which  she  bade  him  leave 

her. Conscious  of  it,  she  blushingiy  repeated  the 

command  with  some  energy,  and  struck  the  lamp  from 
his  hand.  Wallace  immediately  set  his  foot  on  it,  and 
they  were  left  in  darkness.  With  a  voice  loud  enough 
for  the  women  to  distinctly  hear,  (who  were  curiously 
listening,  though  they  could  not  before  make  out  any 
thing  but  that  Lady  Helen  was  in  great  agitation)  he  re- 
proached her  for  her  violence,  and  added,  "  I  leave 
you  to  the  darkness  you  have  brought  upon- yourself; 
and  I  command  that  you  neither  spe?.k  to  your  attend- 
ants, nor  answer  their  questions,  nor  have  another 
light  in  your  room,  till  you  see  me  again."  He  then 
whispered  to  her  to  rise  from  her  bed,  and  allow  him  in 
this  favourable  obscurity  to  lead  her  from  the  chamber, 
Helen  spoke  not,  but  in  a  tremor  of  timid  delight,  threw  a 
dressing  gown  over  her,  which  always  lay  on  her  pil- 
low, and  putting  her  feet  into  her  slippers,  stretched 
out  her  hand  to  Wallace.  He  took  it.  It  was  cold  with 
agitation;  and  finding  that  weakness  and  emotion  de- 
prived her  of  the  pov/er  to  sustain  her  steps  over  the 
floor;  he  gently  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  once  more 
turning  to  the  bed,  said  "  Farewell  cruel  Helen  1"  and 
with  cautious  steps  he  bore  her  through  the  door.  To 
meet  any  of  De  Valence's  men  in  the  passages,  while 
in  this  situation,  would  betray  all.  To  avoid  this,  he 
hastened  through  the  illuminated  galleries,  and  turning 

VOL.    II.  s 


206  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  t 

into  the  apartment  appointed  for  himself,  laid  his  al- 
most fainting  burthen  upon  the  bed.  "  Water  ?'*  said 
she,  "  and  I  shall  revive."  He  gave  her  some,  and  at 
the  same  time  laying  a  page's  suit  of  clothes  (which  Ba- 
liol  had  provided)  down  beside  her.  "  Dress  yourself 
in  these,  Lady  Helen,"  said  he.  "I  shall  withdraw 
meanwhile  into  the  passage,  but  as  soon  as  you  are 
ready,  come  to  the  door,  for  your  safety  depends  on 
expedition." 

Before  she  could  answer  he  had  disappeared.  And 
Helen  having  instantly  thrown  herself  on  her  knees  to 
thank  God  foe  this  commencement  of  her  deliverance, 
and  to  beseech  his  blessings  on  its  consummation,  she 
rose  stj^e^ngthened  :  and  obeying  Wallace,  the  moment  j 
she  waS'€(iuipped  she  laid  her  hand  upon  the  latch,  but  J 
the  watchful  ear  of  her  friend  heard  her,  and  he  imme- 
diately opened  the  door.  The  lamps  of  the  gallery 
sho;^  full  upon  the  light  grace  of  her  figure,  as  shrink- 
ing%ith  blushing  modesty,  and  yet  eager  to  be  with 
her  preserver,  she  stood  hesitating  before  him.  He 
threw  his  cloak  over  her,  and  putting  her  arm  through 
his,  in  the  unobscured  blaze  of  his  princely  armour, 
descended  to  the  low^er  hall  of  the  castle.  One  man 
only  was  there.  Wallace  ordered  him  to  open  the  great 
door. — "  It  is  a  fine  night,"  said  he,  "  and  I  shall  ride 
some  miles  before  I  sleep." — The  man  asked  if  he  were 
to  saddle  the  horses, — he  was  answered  in  the  affirmative; 
and  the  gate  being  immediately  unbarred,  Wallace  led 
his  precious  charge  into  the  freedom  of  the  open  air. 
As  soon  as  she  saw  the  outside  of  those  towers  which 
she  had  so  lately  entered  as  the  worst  of  all  prisoners, 
her  heart  so  overflowed  with  gratitude  to  her  deliverer, 
that  sinking  by  his  side  upon  her  knees,  she  could  only 
grasp  his  hand  and  bathe  it  with  the  pure  tears  of  res- 
cued innocence.  Her  manner  penetrated  his  soul ;  he 
raised  her  in  his  arms  :  but  she,  dreading  that  she  had 
perhaps  done  too  much,  convulsively  articulated— 
"  My  father — his  blessing "  "  Was  a  rich  endow- 
ment. Lady  Helen,"  returned  he,  "  and  you  shall  ever 
find  me  deserving  it."  Her  head  leaned  on  his  breast. 
But  how  difi'erent  was  the  lambent  flame  which  seem- 
ed to  mingle  in  either  heart  as  they  now  beat  against 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  2CV 

each  other,  from  the  destructive  iirc  which  shot  froiii 
the  burning  veins  of  Lady  Mar  when  she  would  have 
polluted  with  her  unchaste  lips  this  shrine  of  a  beloved 
wife,  this  bosom  consecrated  to  her  sacred  image  !— 
Wallace  had  shrunk  from  her  as  from  the  touch  oi' 
some  hideous  contagion.  But  with  Lady  Helen,  it  v/as 
soul  meeting  soul :  it  was  innocence  resting  on  the 
bosom  of  virtue.  No  thought  that  saints  would  nC 
have  approved  was  there ;  no  emotion  which  angels 
might  not  have  shared,  glov/ed  in  their  grateful  bo- 
soms— She,  grateful  to  him ;  both  grateful  to  God. 

The  man  brought  the  horses  from  t|ie  stable.  He 
knew  tluit  two  strangers  had  arrived  at  the  castle,  and 
not  noticing  Helen's  stature,  he  supposed  that  they 
were  both  before  him.  He  had  been  informed  by  the 
servants,  that  the  taller  of  the  two  was  the  Count  de 
Valois,  and  he  now  held  the  stirrup  for  him  to  mount. 
— But  Wallace  first  placed  Helen  on  Brace's  horse, 
and  then  vaulting  on  his  own,  put  a  piece  of  gold  into 
the  attendant's  hand.  "  You  will  return,  noble  prince  ?" 
inqiuFed  the  man.  "  Why  should  you  doubt  it  ?"  an- 
swered Wallace.  "  Because,"  replied  the  servant,  "  I 
wish  the  brother  of  the  King  of  France  to  ivnow  the 
foul  deeds  Avhich  are  done  in  his  dominions."  "  By 
whom  V  asked  Wallace,  much  surprised  at  this  address^ 
"  By  the  Earl  de  Valence,  prince,"  answered  he ;  "  he 
has  now  in  this  castle  a  beautiful  lady  whom  he  brought 
from  a  foreign  land  aud  treats  in  a  manner  unbecom- 
ing a  knight  or  a  man." — "  And  what  v/ould  you  have 
me  do?"  said  Wallace,  willing  to  judge  whether  this 
applicant  were  honest  in  his  appeal.  "  Come  in  the 
power  of  your  royal  brother,"  answered  he,  "  and  de- 
mand the  Lady  Helen  Mar  of  Lord  de  Valence." 

Helen,  who  had  listened  with  trepidation  to  this  dia- 
logue, drew  nearer  Wallace,  and  in  an  agitated  whisper 
said,  "  Ah  I  let  us  hasten  away  !"  The  man  was  close 
enough  to  hear  her.  "Hah  1"  cried  he,  in  a  burst  of 
doubtful  joy,  "  Is  it  so  ?  Is  she  here  ?  say  so,  noble 
knight,  and  Rollo  Grimsby  will  serve  ye  both  for 
ever!" — "Grimsby!"  cried  Helen,  recollecting  liis 
voice  the  mQment  he  had  deJared  his  name,  "  What; 


J08  THE  SGOTTISII  CHIEFS.  ^{ 

the  honest  English  soldier  ? — I,  and  my  preserver  will 
indeed  value  so  trusty  a  follower." 

The  name  of  Grimsby  was  too  familiar  to  the  me- 
mory of  Wallace,  too  closely  associated  with  his  most 
cherished  meditations,  for  him  not  to  recognise  it  with 
melancholy  pleasure.  He  had  never  seen  Grimsby, 
b,\it  he  knew  him  well  worthy  of  his  confidence,  and 
ordering  him  (if  he  really  desired  to  follow  Lady  He- 
len) to  bring  two  more  horses  from  the  stables ;  as 
soon  as  they  were  brought,  he  made  the  joyful  signal 
concerted  with  Bruce :  as  soon  as  he  and  his  charge 
were  out  of  the  castle,  he  was  to  sound  the  Scottish 
pryse  with  his  bugle. 

The  happy  tidings  met  the  ear  of  Bruce,  who  sat  anx- 
iously watching  the  sleep  of  De  Valence,  for  fear  he 
should  awake,  and  leaving  the  room,  interrupt  Wal- 
lace in  his  enterprise.  What  then  was  his  transport, 
when  the  first  note  of  the  horn  burst  upon  the  silence 
around  him. — He  sprang  on  his  feet.  The  impetuosi- 
ty of  the  action  waked  Baliol.  Bruce  made  a  sign  to 
him  to  be  silent,  and  pressing  his  hand  with  energy, 
he  forgot  the  former  Baliol  in  the  present,  and  for  a 
moment  bending  his  knee,  kissed  the  hand  he  held, 
and  rising — was  out  of  the  room  in  un  instant. 

He  flew  across  the  outward  hall,  through  the  open 
gates: — and  Wallace  perceiving  him  rode  out  from  under 
the  shadow  of  the  trees.  The  bright  light  of  the  moon 
shone  on  his  sparkling  crest: — that  was  sufficient  for 
Bruce  ;  and  Wallace  falling  back  again  into  the  shade, 
was  joined  the  next  moment  by  his  eager  friend.  Who 
this  friend  was  for  whom  her  deliverer  told  Helen  he 
waited,  she  did  not  ask  ;  for  she  dreaded  while  so  near 
danger  to  breathe  a  word,  but  she  guessed  that  it  must 
be  either  Murray  or  Edwin.  De  Valance,  impatient 
to  shew  her  how  desolate  she  was  left,  how  dependant 
she  was  on  him  for  love  and  happiness,  had  told  her 
that  not  only  her  father  was  dead  of  his  wounds,  but 
that  her  uncles  the  Lords  Bothwell  and  Ruthven  had 
both  been  killed  in  the  last  battle.  Hence,  one  of  her 
two  fatherless  cousins,  she  now,  with  a  saddened  joy, 
prepared  to  see, — and  every  filial  recollection  pressing 
on  her  heart,  her  tears  flowed  silently,  and  in  abund- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  209 

ance.  As  Bruce  approached  his  black  mantle  so  envelop- 
ed him  that  she  could  not  distinguish  his  figure.  Wal- 
lace stretched  his  hand  out  to  him  in  silence  ;  he  grasp- 
ed it  with  the  warm  but  mute  congratulation  of  friend- 
ship, and  throwing  himself  on  his  steed  while  Grims- 
by mounted  another,  triumphantly  exclaimed,  "  Now 
for  Paris  1*'  and  without  the  aid  of  spurs  to  his  eager 
horse,  he  gaily  led  the  way  in  full  speed..  Helen  re- 
cognised none  she  knew  in  his  voice,  and  drawing  close 
to  the  white  courser  of  Wallace,  with  something  like 
disappointment  mingling  with  her  happier  thoughts 
she  kept  pace  with  the  fleetness  ©f  its  steps. 


CHAP.  XIX. 

Avoiding  the  beaten  track  of  Rouen,  Wallace,  (to 
whom  Grimsby  was  now  a  most  valuable  auxiliary,  be- 
ing so  well  acquainted  with  every  part  of  the  country,) 
took  a  sequestered  path  by  the  banks  of  the  Orne,  and  en- 
tered the  extensive  forest  of  Alencon  just  as  the  moon 
set — Having  ridden  far  and  without  cessation,  Grimsby 
proposed  for  the  lady's  sake  that  they  should  alight) 
and  allow  her  to  repose  awhile  under  the  trees. — He- 
len was  indeed  nearly  exhausted  ;  though  the  idea  that 
she  was  flying  from  a  man  she  abhorred,  and  under 
the  protection  of  the  only  man  whom  she  could  ever 
love,  seemed  to  have  absorbed  her  being  into  his,  and 
by  inspiring  her  with  a  strength  which  surprised  even 
herself,  had  for  a  long  time  kept  her  insensible  to  any 
fatigue.  While  her  friends  pressed  on  with  a  speed 
which  allowed  of  no  more  conversation  than  merely 
occasional  inquiries  of  how  she  bore  the  journey,  the 
swiftness  of  the  motion,  and  the  rapidity  of  the 
events  which  had  brought  her  from  the  most  frightful 
of  situations  into  one  of  the  dearest  to  her  secret  and 
hardly-breathed  wishes,  so  bewildered  her  faculties 
that  she  almost  feared  she  was  only  enjoying  one  of 
those  dreams  which  since  her  captivity  had  often  mock^ 
ed  her  with  the  image  of  Wallace  and  her  release; 
and  every  moment  she  feared  to  awake  and  find  herself 
s2 


210  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

still  the  prisoner  of  De  Valence. "  I  want  no  rest,'* 

replied  she  to  the  observation  of  Grimsby,  *'  I  could 
take  none  till  we  are  beyond  the  possibility  of  being 
overtaken  by  my  enemy.*' — "  You  are  as  safe  in  this 
wood,  lady,"  returned  the  soldier,  "  as  you  can  be  in 
any  place  betwixt  Galliard  and  Paris:  it  is  many  leagues 
from  the  chateau,  and  lies  in  so  remote  a  direction, 
that  I  am  sure,  were  the  earl  to  pursue  us,  he  would 
never  choose  this  path."  "  And  did  he  even  come  up 
with  us,  dear  Lady  Helen,"  "said  Wallace,  "  could  you 
fear  when  with  your  father's  friend  ?"  "  It  is  for  my 
father's  friend  I  fear,"  gently  answered  she,  "  I  can 
have  no  dreads  for  myself,  while  under  such  protec- 
tion." 

A  very  little  more  persuaded  Helen,  and  Grimsby 
having  spread  his  cloak  on  the  grass,  Wallace  lifted 
her  from  the  horse,  as  soon  as  she  put  her  foot  to  the 
ground  and  attempted  to  stand,  her  head  grew  giddy, 
and  she  must  have  fallen,  but  for  the  supporting  arm  of 
her  watchful  friend.  He  carried  her  to  the  couch  pre- 
pared by  the  good  soldier  and  laid  her  on  it.  Grimsby 
had  been  more  provident  than  they  could  have  expec~ 
ted,  for  when,  after  saddling  the  second  pair  of  horses, 
he  returned  into  the  hall  for  his  cloak,  he  found  the 
remnants  of  the  seneschal's  supper  still  on  the  table, 
and  taking  an  undrawn  flask  of  wine,  he  put  it  into  his 
vest.  This  he  now  produced,  and  Wallace  made  He- 
len drink  some  of  it.  The  cordial  revived  her;  and 
leaning  against  his  arm,  she  soon  found  the  repose  her 
wearied  frame,  in  spite  of  the  happy  agitation  of  her 
spirits,  demanded  and  induced.  For  fear  of  disturb- 
ing her,  not  a  word  was  spoken.— -Wallace  supported 
her  head,  and  Bruce  sat  at  her  feet,  while  Grimsby  re- 
mained with  the  horses  as  a  kind  of  outpost. 

Sweet  was  her  sleep;  for  the  thoughts  with  which 
she  sunk  into  slumber  filled  her  dreams.  Still  she  was 
ruling  by  the  side  of  Wallace,  and  listening  to  his 
voice  cheering  her  through  the  lengthening  way  !  But 
some  wild  animal,  in  its  nightly  prowl,  starting  upon 
the  horses,  frightened  them  so  that  they  began  to  snort 
and  plunge ;  and  though  the  no  less  terrified  alarmer 
3ed  far  away,  it  was  with  difficulty  that  the  voice  and 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  211 

management  of  Grimsby  could  quiet  them.  The  noise 
they  made  suddenly  awoke  Helen,  and  her  scattered 
faculties  not  immediately  collecting  themselves,  she 
felt  an  instant  impression  that  all  had  indeed  been  but 
a   dream,  and    starting  in  affright,    she    exclaimed — 

"  Where  am  I  ?  Wallace  where  art  thou?" "  Here, 

my  dear  Lady  Helen  ;"  cried  he,  pressing  her  to  his 
breast  with  fraternal  tenderness;  "  I  am  here  ;  you  are 
safe  with  your  friend  and  brother.*'  Her  heart  beat 
violently  with  a  terror  which  this  assurance  could  hard- 
ly subdue.  At  last  she  spoke,  and  in  an  agitated  voice 
said,  "  Forgive  me,  if  rny  senses  are  a  little  bewilder- 
ed ? — I  have  suffered  so  much — and  this  release  seems 
so  miraculous,  that  at  moments  I  hardly  believe  it  real. 
I  wish  day-light  were  come,  that  I  might  be  convin- 
ced." When  she  had  uttered  these  words,  she  sud- 
denly stopped  and  added,  as  she  felt  herself  blush  all 
over. — "  But  I  am  very  silly  to  talk  thus  ; — I  believe 
my  late  terrors  have  disordered  my  head.'' 

"  What  you  feel,  lady,  is  only  natural;"  observed  Bruce, 
"  I  experienced  the  same  when  I  first  regained  my  li- 
berty and  found  myself  on  the  road  to  join  Sir  William 
Wallace,  Dear,  indeed,  is  liberty  ;  but  dearer  is  the 
friend  whose  virtues  make  our  recovered  freedom  sure." 

"  Who  speaks  to  me  ?"  said  Helen,  in  a  low  voice 

to  Wallace,  and  raising  her  head  from  that  bosom  on 
which  she  felt  she  did  but  too  much  delight  to  lean, 
"  It  is  one,'*  answered  Wallace  in  the  same  tone,  "  who 
is  not  to  be  publicly  known  until  occasion  demands  it; 
one  who,  I  trust  in  God,  will  one  day  seal  the  happi- 
ness of  Scotland, — Robert  Bruce."  That  name  which, 
when  in  her  idea  it  belonged  to  Wallace,  used  to  raise 
such  emotions  in  her  breast,  she  now  heard  with  an 
indifference  that  surprised  her.  But  who  could  be 
more  to  Scotland  than  Wallace  had  been  ?  All  that 
was  in  the  power  of  patriot  or  of  king  to  do  for  his 
country  he  had  done  ;  and  what  then  was  Bruce  in  her 
estimation  ?  One  who,  basking  in  pleasures  while  his 
country  suffered,  allowed  a  brave  subject  to  breast  and 
to  overthrow  every  danger  before  he  would  put  himself 
forward ;  and  now  he  appeared,  to  assume  a  throne 
which,  though  his  right  by  birth,  be  had  most  justly 


212  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

forfeited  by  a  neglect  of  the  duties  iriidispensable  in  the 
heir  of  so  great  and  oppressed  a  kingdom.  These 
would  have  been  her  thoughts  of  him  : — But  Wallace 
called  this  Bruce  his  friend :  the  few  words  which  she 
had  heard  him  speak,  were  generous  and  full  of  a  grat- 
itude to  her  deliverer  v;hich  would  have  engaged  her 
esteem,  even  had  it  not  been  accompanied  by  a  tone 
of  voice  and  manner  of  expression  which  bespoke  an 
ardent,  ingenuous,  and  amiable  mind. 

The  answer,  however,  that  she  made  to  the  reply  of 
Wallace  v.as  spontaneous  and  struck  upon  the  heart  of 
Bruce  :  "  How  long,"  said  she,  "  have  you  promised 
Scotland  that  it  should  see  that  day." 

"Long,  to  my  grief.  Lady  Helen,"  rejoined  Bruce. 
"  I  would  say  to  my  shame,  had  I  ever  intentionally  err- 
ed towards  my  country  ;  but  ignorance  of  her  stale  and 
of  the  depth  of  Edward's  treachery,  was  my  crime.  I 
only  required  to  be  shewn  the  right  path,  to  pursue  it ; 
and  Sir  William  Wallace  came  to  point  the  way.  My 
s:oul,lady,  is  not  unworthy  the  destiny  to  which  he  calls 
me."  Had  it  been  light,  she  vv^ould  have  seen  the  flush 
of  conscious  virtue  that  overspread  his  line  counte- 
nance while  he  spoke  :  but  the  words  were  sufficient 
to  impress  her  with  that  respect  for  his  character  he 
deserved,  and  which  her  answer  shewed — "  My  ever- 
to-be-lamented  father  taught  me  to  consider  Bruce  as 
the  rightful  king  of  Scotland  ;  and  now  that  I  see  the 
day  which  he  so  often  wished  to  hail,  I  cannot  but  re- 
gard it   as  the  termination  of  Scotland's   woes.     Oh  I 

had  it  been  before,  perhaps "  here   she  paused,  for 

tears  stopped  her  utterance.  "  You  think,"  rejoined 
Bruce,  "  that  much  bloodshed  might  have  been  spar- 
ed !  But,  dear  Lady  Helen,  poison  not  the  comfort  of 
your  life  by  that  belief  No  man  exists  who  could  have 
effected  so  much  for  Scotland  in  so  short  a  time,  and 
with  so  little  loss,  as  our  Wallace  has  done.  Who, 
like  him,  makes  mercy  the  companion  of  war;  and 
compels  even  his  enemies  to  emulate  the  clemency 
he  shews  ?  Fewer  have  been  slain  on  the  Scottish  side 
during  the  whole  of  his  struggle  with  Edward,  than 
were  lost  by  Baliol  on  the  fatal  day  of  Dunbar.  Then, 
no  (juarter  was  given.;  and  too  many  of  the  wounded 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHfEFS.  213 

were  left  to  perish  on  the  field.  But  with  Wallace^ 
life  was  granted  to  all  who  asked ;  and  the  wounded 
enemy  as  well  as  the  friend  was  alike  succoured  by 
him.  This  conduct  j)rovoked  the  jealousy  of  the 
Southron  generals  not  to  be  surpassed  in  generosity; 
and  thus  comparatively  few  have  been  lost.  But  if  in 
that  number,  some  were  our  noblest  chiefs,  we  must  be 
resigned  to  yield  to  God  what  is  his  own ;  nay,  v/e 
must  be  grateful,  daughter  of  the  gallant  Mar,  for  the 
Kianner  in  which  they  were  taken.  They  fell  in  the 
arms  of  true  glory,  like  parents  defending  their  off- 
spring; while  others, — my  grandfather  and  father,  per- 
ished with  broken  hearts,  in  unavailing  lamentations 
that  they  could  not  share  the  fate  of  those  who  died  for 
Scotland."  '*  But  you,  dear  Bruce,"  returned  Wallace, 
"  will  live  for  her :  will  teach  those  whose  hearts  have 
bled  in  her  cause,  to  find  a  balm  for  every  wound,  in 
her  prosperity." 

Helen  smiled  through  her  tears  at  these  words.— 
They  spoke  the  heavenly  consolation  which  had  de- 
scended on  her  ov/n  mourning  spirit.  "  If  Scotland  be 
to  rest  nnder  the  happy  reign  of  Robert  Bruce,  then 
envy  cannot  again  assaii  Sir  William  Wallace,  and  my 
father  has  not  shed  his  blood  in  vain.  His  beatified 
spirit,  with  those  of  my  uncles  Bothwell  and  Ruthven, 
will  rejoice  in  such  peace  ;  and  I  shall  enjoy  it  to  feli- 
city, in  so  sacred  a  participation."  Wallace,  surprised 
at  her  associating  the  name  of  Lord  Ruthven  with  those 
who  had  fallen, interrupted  her  with  the  information  that 
when  he  last  quitted  Scotland,  he  had  left  him  in  per- 
fect health.  Helen,  happy  at  these  tidings,  explained 
that  De  Valence  had  given  her  the  opposite  intelli- 
gence, with  other  dreadful  accounts,  in  order,  most 
probably,  by  impressing  her  vvith  an  idea  that  she  was 
friendless,  to  precipitate  her  into  the  determination  of 
becoming  his  v/ife.  But  she  did  not  repeat  to  her 
brave  auditors  all  the  arguments  he  had  used  to  shake 
her  impregnable  heart.  Impregnable,  because  a  prin- 
ciple kept  guard  there,  which  neither  flattery  nor  am- 
bition could  dispossess.  He  had  told  her  that  the  ve- 
ry day  in  which  she  would  give  him  her  hand.  King 
Edward  would  send  him  viceroy  into  Scotland,  where 


2U  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

she  should  reign  with  all  the  power  and  magnificence 
of  a  queen.  He  was  handsome,  accomplished,  and 
adored  her :  but  Helen  could  not  love  him  whom  she 
could  not  esteem  ;  for  she  knew  he  was  libertine,  base, 
ami  cruel. — That  he  loved  her,  affected  her  not :  she 
could  only  be  sensible  to  an  affection  placed  on  wor- 
thy foundations ;  and  he  who  trampled  on  all  virtues  in 
his  own  actions, .could  not  desire  them  when  seen  in 
her ;  he  therefore  must  love  her  for  the  fairness  of 
her  form,  "  which  to-day  is,  and  to-morrow  is  thrown 
into  the  gravel"  and  to  place  any  value  on  such  af- 
fection would  be  to  grasp  the  wind.  Personal  flatte- 
3'i8s  having  made  no  impression  on  Helen,  n.mbitioua 
projects  were  attempted  wltii  equal  ill  success.  Had 
De  Valence  been  lord  of  the  east  and  western  empire, 
could  he  have  made  her  the  envy  and  admiration  of  a 
congregated  world,  all  would  have  been  in  vain :  she 
had  seen  and  known  the  virtues  of  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace, and  from  that  hour,  all  that  was  excellent  in  man, 
all  that  was  desirable  on  earth,  seemed  to  her  to  be  in 
him  summed  up.  "  On  the  barren  heath,"  said  sht? 
to  herself,  "  in  some  desert  island,  with  only  thee  and 
thy  virtues,  how  happy  could  be  Helen  Mar  I  how 
great  I — For,  to  share  thy  heart,  thy  noble,  glorious 
heart,  would  be  a  bliss,  a  seal  of  honour  from  heaven, 
with  which  no  terrestrial  elevation  could  compare  T* 
Then  would  she  sigh;  then  would  she  thank  God  for 
so  ennobling  her  as  to  make  her  capable  of  apprecia- 
ting and  loving  above  all  earthly  things  the  match- 
less virtues  of  Sir  William  Wallace.  "  Yes," 
thought  she,  on  the  very  evening  of  the  night  when  he 
so  unexpectedly  appeared  to  release  her,  "  even  in  lov-= 
ing  thy  perfections  there  is  such  enjoyment  that  I  would 
rather  be  as  I  am,  what  others  might  call  the  hopeless 
Helen,  than  the  loving  and  beloved  pf  any  other  man  on 
cart  .  In  thee,  I  love  virtue  ;  and  the  imperishable 
sentiment  will  bless  me  in  the  world  to  come."  With 
these  thoughts  she  had  fallen  asleep:  She  dreamt 
that  she  called  on  Vv  allace  to  save  her,  and  on  open- 
ing her  eyes,  she  had  found  him  indeed  near  her. 

Every  word  which   this  almost  adored  friend,  now 
Raid  to  comfort  her  with  regard  to  her  own  immediate 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  215 

losses  ;  to  assure  her  of  the  peace  of  Scotland,  should 
heaven  bless  the  return  of  Bruce  ;  took  root  m  her 
soul,  and  sprang  up  into  resignation  and  happiness- 
She  listened  to  the  plans  of  Wallace  a-nd  Bruce  to  effect 
their  great  enterprise  :  and  several  hours  of  the  night, 
during  which  he  rested,  passed  to  her  not  only  in  re- 
pose, but  in  enjoyment.  Wallace,  though  pleased 
with  the  sympathetic  interest  she  took  in  even  the  mi- 
nutest details  of  their  design,  became  fearful  of  over- 

j  tasking  her  weakened   frame  :  he   whispered    Bruce 
to    gradually  drop    the    conversation ;  and,  as  it  died 

I   away,  slumber  again  stole  over  her  eye-lids. 

The  dawn  had  spread  far  over  the  sky  while  she  yet 
slept.  Wallace  sat  contemplating  her,  and  the  now 
sleeping  Bruce,  who  had  also  imperceptibly  sunk  to 
rest.  Various  and  anxious  were  his  meditations.  He 
had  hardly  seen  seven-and-twenty  years,  yet  so  had  he 
been  tried  in  the  vicissitudes  of  life,  that  he  felt  as  if 
he  had  lived  a  century;  and  instead  of  looking  on  the 
lovely  Helen,  as  on  one  whose  charms  might  claim  a 
lover's  wishes  in  his  breast,  he  regarded  her  with  sen- 
timents more  like  parental  tenderness.  That  indeed 
seemed  the  affection  v/hich  now  reigned  in  his  bosom. 
He  felt  as  a  father  towards  Scotland  :  for  every  son  and 
daughter  of  that  harassed  country,  he  was  ready  to  lay 
down  his  life  :  Edwin,  he  cherished  in  his  heart  as  he 
would  have  done  the  dearest  of  his  own  offspring:  it 
was  as  a  parent  to  whom  a  beloved  and  prodigal  s|||l^ 
had  returned,  that  he  loeked  on  Bruce  ;  but  Helen,  '^- 
all  Scotland's  daughters,  she  was  the  most  precious  iti 
his  eyes  ;  set  love  aside,  and  no  object  without  the 
touch  of  that  all-pervading  passion,  could  he  regard 
with  more  endearing  tenderness  than  he  did  Helen  Mar. 
The  shades  of  night  passed  away  under  the  bright  up- 
rise of  the  king  of  day,  and  with  them  her  slumbers. 
She  stirred,  she  awoke.  The  lark  was  then  soaring 
with  shrill  cadence  over  her  head  :  the  notes  pierced 
the  ear  of  Bruce,  and  he  started  on  his  feet.  "  You  have 
allowed  me  to  sleep,  Wallace!"  "  And  why  not?"  replied 
he.  "  Here  it  was  safe  enough  for  all  to  have  slept. 
Had  there  been  danger,  I  would  have  called  you." 
"  Whence;  my  good  friend,"  cried  Bruce  with  a  smile- 


216  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

"  did  you  draw  the  ethereal  essence  that  animates  your 
frame  ? .  You  toil  for  us,  watch  for  us,  and  yet  you  ne- 
ver seem  fatigued,  never  discomposed  I — ^How  is  this? 
What  does  it  mean,  Wallace  ?"  "  That  the  soul  is  im- 
mortal," answered  he;  "that  it  has  a  godlike  power 
even  while  on  earth  to  subdue  the  wants  of  this  mortal 
frame.  The  circumstances  in  which  heaven  has  cast 
me,  have  disciplined  my  body  to  obey  my  mind  in  all 
things  ;  and  therefore,  when  the  motives  for  exertion 
are  strong  within  me,  it  is  long,  very  long,  before  I  ei- 
ther feel  hunger,  thirst,  or  drowsiness.  Indeed  while 
so  occupied,  I  have  often  thought  it  possible  for  the 
activity  of  the  soul  so  to  wear  the  body,  as  some  day 
to  find  it  suddenly  fall  away  from  about  her  spiritual 
substance,  and  leave  her  unencumbered,  without  hav- 
ing felt  the  touch  of  death.  And  yet  that  Elisha-like 
change,"  continued  Wallace,  "  would  not  be  till  hea- 
ven sees  the  appointed  time. — Man  does  not  live  by 
bread  alone,  n'^'ither  by  sleep,  nor  ^ny  species  of  re- 
freshment.— His  spirit  who  created  all  things,  can  give 
us  rest  while  we  keep  the  strictest  vigils  :  his  power 
can  sustain  the  wasting  frame,  even  in  a  barren  wilder- 
ness." 

"  True,"  replied  Helen,  looking  timidly  up  ;  "but  be- 
cause heaven  is  so  gracious  as  sometimes  to  work  mir- 
acles in  our  favour,  surely  we  are  not  authorized  to  ne- 
glect the  natural  means  of  obtaining  the  same  end?" 
"Certainly  not,"  returned  Wallace,  "  it  is  not  for  man  to 
tempt  God  at  any  time.  Sufficient  for  us,  is  to  abide 
by  his  all  wise  dispensations.  When  we  are  in  circum- 
stances to  allow  of  our  partaking  the  usual  means  of 
life,  it  is  demanded  of  us  to  use  them.  But  when  we 
are  brought  into  situations  where  watching,  fasting, 
and  uncommon  toils  are  necessary  ;  then  it  is  an  es- 
sential part  of  our  obedience,  to  perform  our  duties  to 
the  end,  without  any  regard  to  the  wants  which  may 
impede  our  way.  It  is  in  that  hour,  when  the  soul  of 
man,  resolved  to  obey,  looks  down  on  human  nature 
and  looks  up  to  God,  and  he  derives  from  him  both  the 
manna  and  the  ever-living  waters  of  heaven.  By  this, 
the  uplifted  hands  of  Moses  prevailed  over  Amalek  in 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  217 

Rephidim  ;  by  this,  did  the  lengthened  race  of  the  sun 
light  Joshua  to  a  double  victory  in  Gibeon." 

The  morning  vapours  being  dispersed  from  the  op- 
posite plain,  and  Helen  quite  refreshed  by  her  long  rcn 
pose,  Wallace  seated  her  on  her  horse,  and  they  re- 
commenced   their    journey.      The    helmets  of  both 
chiefs  were  now  open. — Grimsby  looked  at  one  and  the 
other ;  the  countenance   of  both  assured  him  that   he 
should  find  a  protector  in  either.  He  drew  towards  Hel- 
en :  she  noticed  his  manner,  and  observing  to  Wallace 
that  she  believed  the  soldier  wished  to  speak  with  her, 
she  checked  her  horse.     At  this  action,  Grimsby  pre> 
sumed  to  ride  up,  and  bowing  respectfully  to  her,  said, 
that  before  he  followed  her  to  Paris  it  would  be  right 
for  the  Count  de  Valois  to  know  whom  he  had  taken 
into  his  train;  "  one,  madam,  who  has  been  degraded 
by   King  Edward  ;  degraded,"  added  he,  "  but  not  de- 
based ;  that  last  disgrace   depends   on  myself;  and  I 
should  shrink  from  your  protection,  rather  than  court 
it,  were  I  indeed  vile."     "  I  have  too  well  proved  your 
integrity,  Grimsby,"  replied  Helen, "  to  doubt  it  now  ; 
but  what  has  the  Count  de  Valois   to  do  M'ith  j^our  be- 
ing under  my  protection  ?     It  is  not  to  him  we  ^Oj  but. 
to  the  French  king."     ''  And  is  not  that  knight  with  the 
diadem,"  inquired  Grimsby  with  surprise,"  the  Count 
de  Valois  ?     All  the  servants  at  Chateau  Galiiard  told 
me  that  he    was."     Helen,  astonished  at  this,    said  thfe 
knight  should  answer  for   himself.     At   that  moment 
Wallace  was  looking  towards  them.     She  quickened 
the  step  of  her  horse,  and  followed  by  Grimsby,  came 
to  his  side. 

As  soon  as  Wallace  had  heard  from  her  what  was  the 
wish  of  the  soldier,  he  called  him  to  approach.  "  My 
friend,"  said  he,  "  you  have  claims  upon  me  which 
should  insure  you  my  protection,  were  I  even  insen- 
sible to  the  honourable  principles  you  have  just  declared 
to  Lady  Helen.  But  I  repeat  I  am  already  your  friend. 
— You  have  only  to  speak,  and  all  that  is  in  my  power 
to  do  to  serve  you,  shall  be  done."  "Then,  sir,"  re- 
turned he,  "  as  mine  is  rather  a  melancholy  story,  and 
parts  of  it  have  already  drawn  many  tea^s  from  Lady 
Helen,  if  you  will  honour  me  with  your  attention  apart 

VOL.   II  T 


i!l3  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

from  her,  I  would  relate  how  I  fell  into  disgrace  with 
my  sovereign." 

Wallace  fell  a  little  back  with  Grimsby,  and  while 
Bruce  and  Helen  rode  briskly  forward,  he,  at  a  slower 
pace,  prepared  to  listen  to  the  recapitulation  of  scenes 
in  which  he  was  only  too  deeply  interested.  Grimsby 
accordingly  began  by  narrating  the  fatal  events  at  El- 
ierslie  which  had  compelled  him  to  leave  the  army  in  , 
Scotland.  He  related,  that  after  quitting  the  priory  of  J 
St.  Fillan,  he  reached  Guienne,  and  there  served  under 
the  Earl  of  Lincoln  until  the  marriage  of  Edward  with 
King  Philip's  sister  gave  the  English  monarch  quiet 
possession  of  that  province.  Grimsby  then  went  with 
the  rest  of  the  troops  to  join  their  sovereign  in  Flan- 
ders. There  he  was  recognised  and  brought  to  judg- 
ment, by  one  of  Heselrigge's  captains ;  one  who  had 
been  a  particular  favourite  with  that  tyrant  from  their 
similarity  of  disposition,  and  to  whom,  after  his  return 
iVom  Ellerslie,  he  had  told  the  mutiny  and  desertion 
(as  he  called  it)  of  Grimsby.  But  on  the  representa- 
tion of  thcEarl  of  Lincoln,  his  punishment  was  mitigated 
from  death  to  the  infliction  of  a  certain  number  of  lash- 
es. This  sentence,  which  the  honest  soldier  regarded 
as  worse  than  the  loss  of  life,  was  executed.  On  strip- 
ping him  at  the  halbert,  the  diamond  clasp  was  found 
hanging  round  his  neck.  This  was  seized  as  the  proof 
of  a  new  crime  :  his  general  now  gave  him  up  ;  and  in 
contempt  of  all  his  asseverations  of  innocecne,  so  incon- 
sistent were  his  judges,  that  while  they  allowed  his 
treason  (for  so  they  stigmatized  his  manly  resentment 
of  Heselrigge's  cruelty,)  to  prejudice  them  against 
him  in  this  his  second  charge,  they  would  not  believe 
what  was  so  probable,  that  this  very  jewel  was  given 
to  him  by  a  friend  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  as  a  reward 
ibr  his  behaviour  on  that  occasion.  They  decided  at 
once  that  he  was  a  thorough  villain,  and  unworthy  to 
live.  He  appealed  to  Edward  ;  but  he  appealed  in  vain  ; 
and  on  the  following  day  he  was  adjudged  to  be  broken 
on  the  wheel  for  the  robbery  of  this  jewel.  Every 
iieart  was  calleus  to  his  sufferings,  but  that  of  a  poor 
\voman,  (the  wife  of  his  gaoler,)  who  fancied  him  like  a 
brother  of  hers  that  had  been  killed  ten  years  before  in 


i  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  21^ 

I  Italy  ;  and  a*,  the  dead  of  night  she  opened  his  prison- 
i  door  and  set  him  free.  He  fled  into  Normandy  ;  and 
I  Avithout  a  home,   oiuhwved,  branded  as  a  traitor  and  a 

i  thief,  he  was  wandering  half  desperate  on  the  shore  one 
stormy  night,  almost  tempted  by  despair  to  plunge  Into 
the  raging  Hood,  when  the  cry  of  distress  attracted  his 
attention.  A  ship  was  stranded.  He  ran  to  the  neigh- 
bouring fishermen,  put  off  in  the  first  boat  himsclt;,  and 
with  indefatigable  labour,  by  rovving  backwards  and  for- 
wards, saved  the  whole  crew.  This  was  Dc  Valence 
in  his  way  to  Guienne.  Chateau  Galliardwas  the  near- 
est residence  fit  to  receive  the  earl  and  his  train.  Thi- 
ther they  went,  taking  Grimsby  along  with  them  :  and 
from  the  servants  he  learnt  that  the  lady  whom  he  sav/ 
always  covered  with  a  veil,  and  often  very  hardly  used, 
was  their  lord's  wife,  and  a  lunatic.  He  remained  i:i 
the  chateau,  because  iie  had  no  where  else  to  go,  and  soon 
I  found,  by  accidental  speeches  from  the  lady's  attend- 
j  ants,  that  she  was  not  married  to  the  earl,  and  was  not 
only  perfectly  sane  but  often  most  criielly  treated.  Her 
name  he  had  never  heard  breathed  till  on  the  last  even- 
ing, when  carrying  some  wine  into  the  banqueting- 
room,  De  Valerxe  mentioned  it  to  the  other  stranger 
knight.  He  then  retired  to  the  hall,  full  of  horror,  re- 
solving to  essay  her  rescue  himself:  but  the  unex- 
pected sight  of  the  two  knights  determined  him  to  re- 
veal the  case  to  them.  "This,"  added  Grimsby,  "  i.i 
my  story ;  and  whoever  you  arc,  noble  lord,  if  you 
think  me  not  unworthy  your  protection,  yield  it  to  me, 
and  you  shall  find  me  faithful  unto  death.'' 

'*  I  owe   you  that  and  more,"   replied  tliC  cliief,  "  I 
am  that  Wallace  on  whose  accoimt  you  fled  your  coun- 
try ; — and,   if  you  be  willing  to  share  the   fortune'^  oi 
one  vy'ho  may  live  and  die  in  camps,  I  pledge  you  that 
my  best  destiny  shall   be   yours."     Could  Grimsby  in 
I  his  joyful  surprise  have  thrown  himself  at  the  loet  of 
i  Wallace,  he  v*'ould  have  done  it ;  but  taking  hold  of  the 
drapery  of  his  scarf  he  pressed  it  enthusiastically  to 
y    his  lips  and  exclaimed  :  "  Bravest  of  the  brave,  this  is 
r   beyond  my  prayers,  to  meet  you  here,  whom  I  believed 
a   the  triumphant  lord  of  Scotland  1—1  fell  innocently  in- 
j  I  to  disgrace  ;  ah  !  how  am  I  now  exalted  unto  hononr  I— > 


220  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  | 

My  country  would  have   deprived   me  o:  life ;    I  am 


y 


therefore  dead  to  it,  and  live  only  to  gratitude  and  you  1' 
^'Then,"  replied  Wallace,   "as  the  first  proof  of  the 
confidence  I  repose  iii  you,  know,  that  the  young  chie 
who  is  riding    forward  with    Lady  Helen,   is    Roberi^ 
Bruce,  the  Prince  of  Scotlc^nd.     Our   next  enterprise 

2s   to  place   him  upon  the    throne  of  his    ancestors 

Meanwhile,  till  we  license  you  to  do  othervvise,  keep 
our  proper  names  a  secret,  and  call  us  by  those  we  may 
hereafter  think  fit  to  assume." 

Grimsby,  once  more  reinstated  in  the  station  l-e  de- 
served, that  of  trust  and  respect,  no  longer  hung  his 
head  in  abject  despondency;  but  looking  erect,  as  one 
boiM  again  from  disgrace,  he  became  the  active,  cheer- 
ful, and  faithful  servant  of  Wallace. 

Helen,  during  Wallace's  conversation  with  the  sol- 
dier, listened  with  delight  to  the  encon  iums  which 
3rucc  passed  upon  his  friend  and  champion.  As  his  | 
eloquent  tongue  described  the  merits  of  Wallace,  and 
expressedan  ardentgratitude  forhis  having  so  gloriously 
supplied  his  place  to  Scotland;  Helen  turned  her  e^res 
upon  the  prince :  before,  she  had  scarcely  remarked 
ihat  he  was  more  than  young  and  handsome ;  but  now, 
>vhilc  she  contemplated  the  noble  confidence  which 
breathed  in  every  feature,  she  said  to  herself,  "  this 
man  is  worthy  to  be  the  friend  of  Wallace  I  His  soul  is 
a  mirror  that  will  reflect  all  the  brightness  of  Wallace's: 
aye,  like  as  with  the  sun's  rays,  to  light  up  with  fire  all 
on  whom  it  turns." 

Bruce  remarked  the  unusual  animation  of  her  eyes 
as  she  looked  on  him.  "  You  feel  all  I  say  of  Wal- 
lace," said  he.  But  it  was  not  a  charge  at  which  she 
need  bluiih.  It  was  addressed  to  that  perception  of 
exalted  worth  which  regards  neither  sex  nor  age. 
Helen  did  not  misapprehend  him. — The  amiable  frank- 
ness of  his  manner  seemed  to  open  to  him  her  heart. 
W^allace  she  adored  almost  as  a  god  ;  Bruce  she  could 
love  as  a  brother.*  It  requires  not  time  nor  proof,  to 
make  virtuous  hearts  coalesce:  there  is  a  language 
•vvithout  sounds,  a  recognition  independent  of  the  visu- 
al organ,  which  acknowledges  the  kindred  of  congenial 
■H.uls  almost  in  the  moment  they  meet,     "  The  virtu- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS,  221 

'  ous  mind  knoweth  its  brother  in  the  clark!"—This  witr 

said  by  a  hero  whose  soul  sympathized  in  every  noble 

fjurpose  with  that  of  Wallace  ;  and  Helen,  impcUcd  by 

the  same  principle,  blushing  with  an  emotion  untainted 

with  any  sensation  of  shame,  replied,  "  I  am  grateful  to 

heaven  which  has  allowed  me  to  witness  the  goodness, 

to  share  the  esteem  of  such  a  man-^f  a  man  he  may 

I  be  called."  "  He  is  one  of  the  few.  Lady  Helen,"  repli- 

j  ed  Bruce,  ''  who  is  worthy  of  so  august  a  title ;  and  he 

j  brightly  shews  the  image  in  which  he  was  made ;  so 

I  humble,   so   dignified  1  so  great,    so  lowly !    so  super- 

j  eminent   in    all  accomplishments  of  mind  and  body  4 

I  wise,  brave,  and  invincible,  and  yet  forbearing,  gentle, 

j  and  unassuming:  formed  to  be  beloved,   yet  v/ithout  a 

touch  of  vanity  ;  loving  all  who  approach  him,  without 

j  the  least  alloy    of  passion. — Ah  !  Lady  Helen,   he  is  ti 

model   after  which    I  will  fashion   my  life  ;  for  he  has 

written  the  character  of  the  son  of  God  in  his  heart; 

and  it  shall  be  my  study  to  transcribe  the  blessed  copy 

into  mine  1"     The  tear  of  rapture  glittered  in  the  eye 

and  on   the   smile  of  Helen.     To  answer  Bruce   she 

found  was  impossible  :  but   that  her   smile   and  look, 

were  fully  appreciated  by  him,  his  own  told  her;  and 

stretching  out  his  hand  to  her,  as  she  put  hers  into  his, 

he    said, — "  We    are  united    in    his   heart,  my    sv/eet 

friend  1" — At  this  moment  Wallace  joined  them.     He 

saw  the  action  and  the  animation  of  each  countenance, 

and  looked   at   Bruce  with  a  glance    of  inquiry:  but 

Bruce  perceived  nothing  of  a  lover's  jealousy  in  the 

look  :  it  carried  the  wish  of  a  friend  to  share  what  had 

impressed  them  with  such  happy  traits. 

*'  We  have  been  talking  of  you  ;"  returned  the  prince, 
"  and  if  to  be  beloved  is  a  source  of  joy,  you  must  be  pe- 
culiarly blest.  The  affections  of  Lady  Helen  and  my- 
self have  met  in  your  breast?  and  made  your  heart  the 
altar  on  which  we  have  ])ledged  our  fraternal  love.'' 
Wallace  regarded  each  with  a  look  of  the  most  pene- 
trating tenderness.  "  It  is  my  joy  to  love  you  both  as  a 
brother;  but  Lady  Helen  must  consider  me  as  even  more 
than  that  to  her.  I  am  her  father's  representative  ;  I  am 
the  voice  of  grateful  Scotland,  thanking  her  for  the  pre- 
servation her  generous  exertions  yielded!. — And  to 
t2 


'S22  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

you,  ray  prince,  I  am  your  friend,  your  subject,  all  that 
is  devotee]  and  true." 

Thus,  cnjoyin^^  the  dear  communion  of  hearts,  the 
interchange  of  mind,  and  mingling  soul  with  soul, 
did  tiiese  three  friends  journey  towards  the  gates  of 
Paris.  Every  day  seemed  an  age  of  blessedness  to 
Helen  ;  so  gratefully  did  she  enjoy  each  passing  mo- 
ment of  a  happiness  that  seemed  to  speak  of  paradise. 
Nature  never  before  appeared  so  beautiful  in  her  eyes  : 
The  sky  was  more  serene,  the  birds  sung  with  sweeter 
notes,  the  landscape  shone  in  brighter  charms;  the 
fragrance  of  the  flowers  bathed  her  senses  in  softest 
balm,  and  the  very  air  as  it  breathed  around  her,  seemed 
fraught  with  life  and  joy.  But  Wallace  animated  the 
scene  !  and  while  she  fancied  that  she  inhaled  his 
breath  in  every  respiration,  she  moved  as  if  on  en- 
chanted ground.  O  !  she  could  have  lingered  there 
for  ever  !  and  hardly  did  she  know  what  it  was  to  draw 
any  but  sighs  of  bliss  till  she  saw  the  towers  of  Paris 
embattling  the  horizon.  They  reminded  her  that  she 
was  now  going  to  be  occasionally  divided  from  him  ; 
that  when  entered  within  those  walls,  it  would  no  longer 
be  deemed  decorous  for  her  to  pass  days  and  nights  in 
listening  to  his  voice,  in  losing  all  of  woman's  love  in 
the  beatified  affection  of  an  angel. 

This  passion  of  the  soul,  (if  such  it  may  be  called) 
which  has  its  rise  in  virtue,  and  its  aim  the  same,  would 
be  most  unjustly  degraded  were  it  classed  with  what  the 
herd  generally  entitle  love.  The  love  which  men  stig- 
matize, deride,  and  yet  encourage,  is  a  fancy,  an  infa- 
tuation awakened  by  personal  attractions,  by — the  lover 
knows  not  what ;  sometimes,  by  gratified  vanity  ;  some- 
times by  idleness ;  and  often  by  the  most  debasing 
propensities  of  human  nature.  With  these  causes, 
an  idea  may  mingle  that  the  person  beloved  is  possessed 
of  those  amiable  endowments  necessary  to  domestic 
happiness  ;  but  they  are  commonly  secondary  objects. 
Men  are  often  hurried  to  the  most  excessive  extrava- 
gancies of  passion  for  a  woman  whom  they  know  has 
no  one  attractive  quality  but  that  of  beauty,  or,  per- 
haps, the  art  of  flatf^.ring  their  vanity.  And  again,  we 
^:ce  a  man  plotting  the  ruin  of  all  that  is  admirable  in 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  223v 

%^man,  and  even  while  he  does  it,  telling  the  unhappy 
object  that  it  is  the  effect  of  his  love.  But,  fools  are 
they  who  say  so ;  and  greater  fools  are  they  who  be- 
lieve I — Love,  true  heaven-born  love,  that  pure  affection 
which  unites  congenial  spirits  here,  and  with  which  the 
Creator  will  hereafter  connect  in  one  blest  fraternity 
the  whole  kindred  of  mankind,  has  but  one  cause,  The 
universal  fairness  of  its  object ! — Tnat  bright  perfec- 
tion  which  speaks  of  unchangeableness  and  immorta- 
lity;  a  something  so  excellent,  that  the  simple  wish  to 
partake  its  essence  in  the  union  of  affection,  to  facilitate 
and  to  share  its  attainment  of  true  and  lasting  happiness, 
invigorates  our  virtue,  and  inspires  our  souls.  These 
are  the  aims  and  joys  of  real  love.  It  has  nothing  sel- 
fish: in  every  desire  it  soars  above  this  earth;  and  an- 
ticipates, as  the  ultimatum  of  its  joy,  the  moment  when 
it  shall  meet  its  partner  before  the  throne  of  God. 
Such  was  the  sentiment  of  Helen  towards  Wallace.  So 
unlike  what  she  had  seen  in  others,  of  the  universal 
passion,  that  she  would  hardly  have  acknowledged  to 
herself  that  what  she  felt  was  love,  had  not  the  antici- 
pation of  even  an  hour's  separation  from  him  whispered 
the  secret  to  her  heart. 


CHAP.  XX. 

W  HEN  they  were  arrived  at  a  short  distance  from 
Paris,  Wallace  wrote  a  few  lines  to  King  Philip,  inform- 
ing him  who  were  the  companions  of  his  journey,  and 
that  he  should  rest  in  the  abbey  of  St.  Denis  until  he 
should  receive  his  majesty's  greetings  to  Bruce. 
Grimsby  was  the  bearer  of  this  letter.  He  soon  re- 
turned with  an  escort  of  honour  headed  by  Prince 
Louis,  who  was  eager  to  welcome  his  deliverer.  At 
sight  of  Wallace  he  flew  into  his  arms,  and  after  em- 
bracing him  again  and  again  with  all  the  unchecked  ar- 
dour of  youthful  fondness,  he  presented  to  him  a  packet 
from  the  king. 

It  expressed  the  satisfaction  of  Philip  at  the  near 
prospect  he  had  of  seeing  the  man  whom  he  had  so 


224  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

long  admired,  and  whose  valour  had  wrought  him  such 
a  service  as  the  preservation  of  his  son. — He  then  ad- 
ded, that  he  had  other  matters  to  thank  him  for  when 
they  should  meet,  and  subjects  to  discuss  which  would 
be  much  elucidated  by  the  presence  of  Bruce.  ''  Ac- 
cording to  your  request,"  continued  he,  "  the  name  of 
neither  shall  be  made  public  at  my  court :  my  own  fa- 
mily only,  know  who  are  to  be  my  illustrious  guests ; 
and  the  queen  is  as  ready  to  bid  them  welcome,  as  to 
protect  the  Lady  Helen  Mar,  to  whom  v/e  offer  our 
congratulations  on  her  escape." 

A  superb  ear,  in  which  sat  two  ladies  bearing  rich 
apparel  for  Helen,  drew  near  the  abbey  porch  where 
Wallace  stood.  As  soon  as  their  errand  was  made 
Laown  to  him,  he  communicated  it  to  Helen.  Her  de- 
licacy would  have  wished  to  lay  aside  her  page's  appa- 
rel, before  she  was  presented  to  the  queen,  but  she  had 
been  so  happy  while  she  wore  it ; — -"  Days  have  past 
with  me  in  these  garments,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  which 
may  never  happen  again  !"  The  ladies  were  conducted 
to  Helen ;  they  delivered  a  gracious  message  from  their 
royal  mistress,  and  opened  the  caskets.  Helen  sighed  : 
she  could  urge  nothing  in  opposition  to  their  embassy, 
and  reluctantly  she  assented  to  the  change  they  were 
to  make  in  her  appearance.  She  stood  mute  while 
they  disarrayed  her  of  her  humble  guise,  and  clothed 
her  in  the  robes  of  France.  While  they  dressed  her, 
in  the  adulatory  strains  of  die  court,  they  broke  out  in 
ejaculatory  encomiums  on  the  graces  of  her  person ; 
but  to  all  this  she  turned  an  inattentive  ear ;  her  mind 
was  absorbed  in  what  she  had  enjoyed,  in  the  splendid 
penance  she  was  to  undergo. 

One  of  the  women  was  throwing  the  page's  clothes 
carelessly  into  a  bag,  when  Helen  perceiving  her,  said, 
"  Take  care  of  that  suit,  it  is  more  precious  to  me  than 
gold  or  jewels  I"  "Indeed  !"  answered  the  attendant, 
more  carefully  folding  it,  "it  does  not  seem  of  very 
rich  silk."  ^'  Probably  not,"  returned  Helen,  "  but  it  is 
valuable  to  me,  and  wherever  I  lodge,  1  will  thank  you 
to  put  it  into  my  apartment." — A  mirror  was  now  pre- 
sented, that  she  might  see  herself.  She  started  at  the 
load  of  pearls  with  which  they  had  adorned  her,  ami  while 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  225 

a  tear  stood  in  either  eye,  she  mildly  said,  "I  am  a 
mourner,  these  ornaments  must  not  be  worn  by  me. 
Take  them  off."  The  ladies  obeyed.  And  with 
thoughts  divided  between  her  father  and  her  father's 
friend,  she  was  conducted  towards  the  car.  Wallace 
approached  her,  and  Bruce  flew  forward  with  his  usual 
liaste,  to  assist  her  : — but  it  was  no  longer  the  beautiful 
little  page  that  met  his  view,  the  confidential  and  frank 
r;lance  of  a  youthful  brother ! — It  was  a  lovely  woman, 
arrayed  in  all  the  charms  of  female  apparel,  and  tremb- 
ling and  blushing  as  she  again  appeared  as  a  woman, 
before  the  eyes  of  the  man  she  loved.  Wallace  bowed 
i\s  he  touched  her  hand,  for  there  was  something  in  her  air 
which  seemed  to  say,  "I  am  not  what  I  was  a  few  minutes 
ngo." — It  was  the  aspect  of  a  strange  austerity,  the  de- 
corum of  rank  and  situation  ; — not  of  the  heart, — that 
had  never  been  absent  from  the  conduct  of  Helen  :  had 
she  been  in  the  wilds  of  Africa  with  no  other  compa- 
nion than  Wallace,  still  would  those  chaste  reserves 
which  lived  in  her  soul,  been  there  the  guai'dians  of  her 
actions;  for  modesty  was  as  much  the  attribute  of  her 
person,  as  magnanimity  was  the  character  of  her  souL 
Her  particularly  distant  air  at  this  time,  was  the  ef- 
fect of  her  reflections  while  in  the  abbey.  She  saw  that 
the  frank  intercourse  between  her  and  her  friend  was 
to  be  interrupted  by  the  forms  of  a  court,  and  her  man- 
ner insensibly  assumed  the  demeanor  she  was  so  soon 
to  wear.  Bruce  looked  at  her  with  delighted  wonder. 
He  had  before  admired  her  as  beautiful ;  he  now  gazed 
on  her  as  transcendently  so. — He  checked  himself  in  his 
swift  step,  he  paused  to  look  on  her  and  WiUlace,  and 
contemplated  them  with  sentiments  of  such  unmingied 
admiration,  that  this  exclamation  unconsciously  es- 
caped him — "  How  lovely  \" — He  could  not  but  M'ish  to 
see  two  such  perfectly  amiable  and  perfectly  beautiful 
beings  united  as  closely  by  the  bonds  of  the  world,  as 
he  believed  they  were  in  heart,  and  he  longed  for  the 
hour  when  he  might  endow  them  with  those  proofs  of 
his  fraternal  leve,  which  should  class  them  with  the 
first  of  Scottish  princes.  "  But  how,"  thought  he,  "  can 
I  reward  thee,  Wallace,  for  what  thou  hast  done  for  me 
and  mine  ?     Thy  services  are  beyond  all  price ;  thy 


.26  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

soul  is  above  even  empires.  Then  how  can  I  shew  thee 
all  that  is  in  my  heart  for  thee  ?"  While  he  thus  apos- 
trophized his  friend,  Wallibce  and  Helen  advanced  to- 
wards him.  Bruce  held  out  his  hand  to  her  with  a  cor- 
dial smile,  "  Lady  Helen,  we  are  still  to  be  the  same  ! 
Robes  of  no  kind  arc  ever  to  separate  the  affections 
borne  in  our  pilgrimage  i"  She  put  her  hand  into  his 
vv'ith  a  glow  of  delight :  "  While  Sir  William  Wallace 
allows  me  to  call  him  brother,"  answered  she,  "  that 
will  ever  be  a  sanction  to  our  friendship:  but  courts 
are  formal  places,  and  I  now  go  to  one."     "  And  I  will 

soon  remove  you  to  another,"  replied  he,  "where- " 

he  hesitated,  looked  at  Wallace,  and  then  resumed, 
"  where  every  wisii  of  my  sister  Helen's  heart  shall  be 
gratified,  or  I  be  no  king."  Helen  blushed  deeply, 
and  hastened  towards  the  car.  Wallace  placed  her  on 
the  seat,  and  Piince  Louis  preceding  the  carriage,  the 
cavalcade  moved. 

As  Bruce  vaulted  into  his  saddle,  he  said  something 
to  hit  friend  declarative  of  his  admiratioji  ot  the  perfect- 
ly feminine  beauty  of  Helen.  "  But  her  soul  is  fairer  !'* 
returned  Wallace.  The  prince  of  Scotland,  with  a  gay 
but  tender  smile  softly  whispered,  "Fair,  doubly  fair  to 
you  !"  Wallace  drew  a  deep  sigh :  "  I  never  knew  but 
one  woman  who  resembled  her  in  this  respect,  and  she 
did  indeed  excel  all  of  created  mould.  From  infancy  to 
manhood  I  read  every  thought  of  her  angelic  heart;  I 
became  the  purer  by  the  study,  and  I  loved  my  model 
with  an  idolatrous  adoration.  There  was  my  error, 
Bruce!  But  those  sympathies,  those  hours  are  past. 
My  heart  will  never  throb  as  it  has  throbbed,  never  re- 
joice as  it  has  rejoiced,  for  she  who  lived  but  for*  me, 
who  doubled  all  my  joys,  is  gone  ! — And,  though  blest 
"with  friendship,  there  are  times  when  I  feel  that  I  am 

solitary  1" Bruce  looked  at  him  with  surprise  and 

interest.  "  Solitary  !  Wallace  !  can  you  ever  be  solita- 
ry, and  near  Helen  Mar?"  "Perhaps  more  so  then, 
than  at  any  other  time,  for  her  beauties,  her  excellen- 
cies, remind  mc  of  what  were  once  mine  and  recall  ev- 
ery regret.  O!  Bruce!  thou  canst  not  comprehend  my 
loss  !  To  mingle  thought  with  thought,  and  soul  with 
soul,  for  years  j  and  then,  after  blending  our  very  be- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  227 

ings,  and  feeling?  as  if  indeed  made  one, — to  be  separa- 
ted.^  and  by  a  stroke  of  violence  !  This  was  a  trial  of 

the  spirit  which,  but  for  heaven's  mercy,  would  have 
crushed  me.  I  live,  bu«t  still  my  heart  will  mourn ; 
mourn  her  I  have  lost,  and  mourn  that  my  rebellious 
nature  will  not  be  more  resigned  to  the  judgments  of 
its  God." 

"  And  is  love  so  constant  ?"  exclaimed  Bruce,  "  Is  it 
to  consume  your  youth,  Wallace  ?  Is  it  to  wed  such  a 
heart  as  yours  to  the  tomb  ? — Ah !  am  I  not  to  hope 
that  the  throne  of  my  children  may  be  upheld  by  a  race 
of  thine?"  Wallace  shook  his  head,  but  with  a  placid 
firmness  replied,  "  Your  throne  will  be  upheld  by  hea- 
ven ;  and  if  your  children  follow  your  example,  the 
isame  Almighty  arm  will  be  with  them  ;  but  should  they 
pervert  themselves,  a  host  of  mortal  supports  would 
not  be  sufficient  to  stay  their  downfal." 

In  discourse  like  this,  the  youthful  prince  of  Scot- 
land caught  a  clearer  view  of  the  inmost  thoughts  of  his 
friend,  than  he  had  been  able  to  discern  before ;  for 
war,  or  Bruce*sown  interests  having  particularly  enga- 
ged them  in  all  their  former  conversations,  Wallace  had 
never  been  induced  to  glance  at  the  private  circum- 
stances of  his  history.  While  Bruce  sighed,  in  tender 
pity  for  the  captivated  heart  of  Helen,  he  the  more 
deeply  revered,  more  intensely  loved,  his  suffering  and 
ilieroic  friend. 

A  few  hours  brought  the  royal  escort  to  the  gates  of 
the  Louvre  ;  and  through  a  train  of  nobles,  who  stood 
on  the  marbled  pavement,  Lady  Helen,  followed  by  the 
Scottish  chiefs,  was  led  into  the  audience-chamber  by 
Prince  Louis.  Philip,  who,  as  he  had  much  to  say  to 
Wallace,  intended  to  see  him  first  alone,  on  hearing  of 
his  approach,  retired  to  his  closet.  The  queen  and  the 
Count  D'Evi'eux,  received  Bruce  and  Helen,  while  De 
Valois  conducted  Wallace  to  the  king. 

At  sight  of  the  armjur  which  he  had  sent  to  the  pre- 
server of  his  son,  Philip  instantly  recognised  the  Scot- 
tish hero,  and  rising  from  his  seat,  hastened  towards 
him,  and  clasped  him  in  his  arms.  "  Wonder  not,  au- 
gust chief,"  exclaimed  he,  "  at  the  weakness  exhibited 
in  these  eves!  It  is  the  tribute  of  nature  to  a  virtue 


223  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

f 

which  loads  even  kings  with  benefits.  You  have  saved 
my  son's  life,  you  have  preserved  from  taint  the  honour 
of  my  sister  !" — Philip  then  proceeded  to  inform  his  au- 
ditor, that  he  had  heard  from  a  confessor  of  Queen  Mar- 
garet's just  arrived  from  England,  all  that  had  lately 
happened  at  Edward's  court,  and  of  Wallace's  letter  to 
clear  the  innocence  of  that  injured  princess.  "  She  is 
perfectly  reinstated  in  the  king's  confidence,"  added 
Philip,  "  but  I  can  never  pardon  the  infamy  with  which 
he  would  have  overwhelmed  her;  nay,  it  has  already 
dishonoured  her  ;  for  the  blasting  effects  of  slander  no 
time  nor  labour  can  erase.  I  yield  to  the  prayers  of 
my  too  gentle  sister,  not  to  openly  resent  this  wrong, 
but  in  secret  I  will  make  him  feel  a  brother's  indigna- 
tion. I  do  not  declare  war  against  him;  but  ask  what 
you  will,  bravest  of  men,  and  were  it  to  place  the  crown 
of  Scotland  on  your  head,  demand  it  of  me,  and  by  my 
concealed  agency,  it  shall  be  effected."  The  reply  of 
Wallace  was  simple.  He  claimed  no  merit  in  the  jus- 
tice he  had  done  the  Queen  of  England,  neither  in  his 
rescue  of  Prince  Louis,  but  as  a  proof  of  King  Philip's 
friendship,  he  gladly  embraced  his  offered  services  with 
regard  to  Scotland. — "  Not,''  added  he, "  to  send  troops 
into  that  country  against  England.  Scotland  is  now 
free  of  its  Southron  invaders,  and  all  I  require  is,  that 
you  will  use  your  royal  influence  with  Edward  to  allow 
it  to  remain  so.  Pledge  your  faith,  most  gracious  mon- 
arch, with  my  master  the  royally  descended  Bruce,  who  ; 
is  now  in  your  palace.  He  will  soon  assume  the  crown  j 
that  is  his  right ;  and  with  such  an  ally  as  France  to  hold 
the  ambition  of  Edward  in  check,  we  may  certainly  hope 
that  the  bloody  feuds  between  Scotland  and  England 
may  at  last  be  laid  at  rest.'' 

Wallace  explained  to  Philip  the  dispositions  of  the 
Scots,  the  nature  of  Bruce's  claims,  and  the  transcen- 
dent virtues  of  his  youthful  character.  The  monarch 
took  fire  at  the  speaker's  enthusiasm,  and  giving  him 
his  htind,  exclaimed,  "  Wallace,  I  know  not  what  man- 
ner of  man  you  are  !  You  seem  born  to  dictate  to  kings, 
while  yourself  puts  aside,  as  things  of  no  moment,  the 
crowns  offered  to  you. — You  are  young,  and  marvelling, 
T  would  say  vrithout  ambition,  did  I  not  know  that  your 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  229 

deeds  and  your  virtues  have  set  you  above  all  earthly 
titles.  But  to  convince  me  thd«t  you  do  not  disdain  the 
gratitude  we  pay,  at  least  accept  a  name  in  my  country  I 
and  know  that  the  armour  you  wear,  the  coronet  around 
your  helmet,  invested  you  with  the  rank  of  a  prince  of 
France,  ana  the  title  of  Count  of  Gascony-''^^)  To  have 
refused  this  mark  of  the  monarch's  esteen.,  would  have 
been  an  act  of  churlish  pride  foreign  from  the  charac- 
ter of  Wallace.  He  graciously  accepted  the  offered 
tlistinction,  and  bowing  his  head,  allowed  the  king  to 
throw  the  brilliant  collar  of  Gascony  over  his  neck. 

This  act  was  performed  by  Philip  with  all  the  emo- 
tions of  disinterested  esteem.  But  when  he  had  pro- 
posed it  to  his  brothers  as  the  only  way  he  could  devise 
of  rewarding  Wallace  for  the  preservation  of  his  son 
and  the  honour  of  their  sister,  he  was  obliged  to  urge 
in  support  of  his  wish,  the  desire  he  had  to  take  the 
first  opportunity  of  being  revenged  on  Edward,  by  the 
re-seizure  of  Guienne.  To  have  Sir  William  Wallace 
Lord  of  Gascony  would  then  be  of  the  greatest  advan- 
tage, as  no  doubt  could  be  entertained  of  his  arms  soon 
restoring  the  sister  province  to  the  French  monarchy. 
In  such  a  case  Philip  promised  to  bestow  Guienne  on 
his  brother  D'Evereux. 

To  attach  his  new  count  to  France  was  now  all-the 
wish  of  Philip  ;  and  he  closed  the  conference  with 
every  expression  of  friendship  which  man  could  deliver 
to  man.  Wallace  lost  not  the  opportunity  of  pleading 
for  the  abdicated  King  of  Scots  ;  and  Philip,  eager,  as 
well  to  evince  his  r<*sentment  to  Edward,  as  to  oblige 
Wallace,  promised  to  send  immediate  orders  to  Nor- 
mandy, that  De  Valence  should  leave  Chateau  Galliard, 
and  Baliol  be  attended  with  all  his  former  state. 

The  king  then  led  his  guest  into  the  audience- 
chamber,  where  they  found  her  majesty  seated  between 
Bruce  and  Helen.  At  sight  of  the  Scottish  chief  she 
rose.  Philip  led  him  up  to  her ;  and  Wallace,  bend- 
ing his  knee,  put  the  fair  hand  she  extended  to  his 
lips. — "  Welcome,*'  said  she,  "  bravest  of  knights ! 
receive  a  mother,  a  sister's  thanks."  Tears  of  grati- 
tude stood  in  her  eyes.  She  clasped  the  hand  of  her 
son   and  his  together,  and  added,    "  Louis,  wherever 

VOL.  II.  u 


230  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

our  Count  of  Gascony  advises  you  to  pledge  this  hand^ 
give  it.*'  "  Tlien  it  will  follow  minel"  cried  the  king, 
putting  his  into  that  of  Bruce  ;  "  You  are  Wallace's  ac- 
knowledged sovereign,  young  prince,  and  you  shall 
ever  find  brothers  in  nie  and  my  son ! — Sweet  lady," 
added  he,  turning  to  Helen,  "  thanks  to  your  charms 
for  having  drawn  this  friend  of  all  mankind  to  bless  our 
shores  ! — When  you  take  him  hence  (coniinued  he,  in 
a  lowered  tone  that  none  but  herself  heard)  it  must  be 
to  reward  him  with  beauties  which  might  involve  ano- 
ther Troy  in  flames !"  Helen  blushed  deeply.  Her 
heart  glowed  amidst  its  agitated  t'-robbings  ;  for  during 
this  long,  circuitous  journey,  his  endearing  care  had 
almost  unconsciously  awakened  a  hope  v/hich  now, 
in  a  still  small  voice,  whispered  an  echo  to  the  wish  of 
Philip. 

The  court  only  knew  Wallace  as  Count  of  Gascony ; 
and  Bruce  assumed  the  name  of  the  young  De  Lon- 
gueville,  whom  prince  Louis  had  in  fact  allowed  to  leave 
him  on  the  road  to  Paris,  and  to  go  to  Chartres,  there 
to  pass  a  year  of  mourning  within  its  penitential  mo- 
nastery. Only  two  persons  ever  came  to  the  Louvre 
who  might  recognise  Bruce  to  be  other  than  he 
seemed  ;  and  they  were  John  Cummin,  the  elder  twin 
brother  of  the  present  Regent  of  Scotland,  and  James 
Lord  Douglas.  The  former  remained  in  France  out  of 
dislike  to  his  brother's  proceedings;  and  as  Bruce 
knew  him  in  Guienne,  and  believed  him  to  be  a  blunt 
well-meaning  young  man,  he  saw  no  danger  in  trusting 
him.  The  brave  son  of  William  Douglas  was  altoge- 
ther of  a  nobler  mettle  ;  and  both  Wallace  and  his 
prince  rejoiced  at  the  prospect  of  receiving  him  to 
their  friendship.  ^^^'^ 

Philip  opened  the  affair  to  the  two  lords,  and  having 
declared  his  designs  in  favour  of  Bruce,  conducted 
them  into  tl^e  audience-room,  and  pointing  to  him  where 
he  stood,  said,  "  There  is  the  King  of  Scotland,  whose 
cause  I  mean  to  support  to  my  last  gasp  1"  Douglas 
and  Cummin  would  have  bent  their  knees  to  their 
young  monarch,  but  Bruce  hastily  caught  their  hands, 
and  prevented  the  action  ;  "  My  friends,"  said  he, 
"  regard  me  as  your  fellow -soldier  only,  tfll  you  sec  ,1 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  231 

me  on  the  throne  of  my  fathers.  Till  then,  that  is  our 
prince,"  said  he,  looking  on  Wallace,  "  he  is  my  lead- 
er, my  counsellor,  my  example  !  And,  if  you  love  me, 
he  must  be  yours."  Douglas  and  Cummin  turned  to- 
wards Wallace  at  these  words.  Royalty  did  indeed  sit 
on  his  brow,  but  with  a  tempered  majesty  which  spoke 
only  in  love  and  honour.  From  the  resplendent  coun- 
tenance of  Bruce  it  smiled  and  threatened ;  for  the 
blaze  of  his  impassioned  nature  was  not  yet  subdued. 
The  queen  looked  from  the  one  to  the  other.  The 
divinely  composed  air  of  Wallace  seemed  to  her  like 
the  celestial  port  of  some  heaven-descended  being,  lent 
awhile  to  earth  to  guide  the  steps  of  the  prince  of 
Scotland.  She  had  read  of  the  deity  of  wisdom  assum- 
ing the  form  of  Mentor  to  protect  the  son  of  Ulysses  ; 
and  had  it  not  been  for  the  youth  of  the  Scottish  chief, 
she  would  have  said,  here  is  the  realization  of  the  tale. 

Helen  had  eyes  for  none  but  Wallace.  Nobles, 
princes,  kings,  were  all  involved  in  one  uninteresting 
mass  to  her  when  he  was  present.  Yet  she  smiled  on 
Douglas,  when  she  heard  him  express  his  gratitude  to 
the  champion  of  Scotland  for  the  services  he  had  done 
a  country  for  which  his  own  father  had  died.  Cum- 
min, when  he  paid  his  respects  to  Wallace,  told  him 
that  he  did  it  with  double  pleasure,  as  he  had  two  un- 
questionable evidences  of  his  unequalled  merit ;  the 
confidence  of  his  father  the  Lord  Badenoch,  and  the 
hatred  of  his  brother,  the  present  usurper  of  that  title. 

The  king  soon  after  led  his  guests  to  the  council- 
room,  vv'here  a  siecret  council  was  to  be  held  to  settle 
the  future  bonds  between  the  two  kingdoms  ;  and 
Helen,  looking  long  after  the  departing  figure  of  Wal- 
lace, v/ith  a  pensive  step  followed  the  queen  to  her 
apartment. 


CHAP.  XXI. 

X  HESE  preliminaries  for  a  lasting  friendship  being 
arranged  and  sworn  to  by  Philip,  Wallace  dispatched  a 
messenger  to  Scotland  to  Lord  Ruthven  at  Hunting- 


^m 


262  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  » 

i 

tower,  informing  him  of  all  that  had  happened  to  him 
since  their  separation,  and  of  his  present  designs  with 
regard  to  Scotland.  He  made  particular  inquiries 
respecting  the  state  of  the  public  mind,  and  declared 
his  intentions  not  to  introduce  Bruce  amongst  the  cabals 
of  his  chieftains  until  he  knew  exactly  how  they  w-ere 
all  disposed.  Some  weeks  passed  away  before  a  reply 
to  this  letter  arrived.  During  this  time  the  health  of 
Helen,  which  had  been  much  impaired  by  the  suffer- 
ings inflicted  on  her  by  De  Valence,  gradually  recover- 
ed ;  and  her  beauty  became  as  much  the  admiration  of 
the  French  nobles  as  her  meek  dignity  was  of  their 
respect.  A  new  scene  of  royalty  presented  itself  in 
this  gay  court  to  Wallace,  for  all  was  pageant  and 
chivalric  gallantry;  but  it  had  no  other  effect  on  him 
than  that  of  exciting  those  benevolent  affections  which 
rejoiced  in  the  innocent  gayety  of  his  fellow  beings. 
His  pensiveness  was  not  that  of  a  cynic.  Though 
hilarity  never  awakened  his  mind  to  buoyant  mirth,  yet 
he  loved  to  see  it  in  others,  and  gently  smiled  when 
others  laughed. 

With  a  natural  superiority,  which  looked  over  these 
court  pastimes,  to  objects  of  greater  moment,  Bruce 
merely  endured  them  ;  but  it  was  with  an  urbanity  con- 
genial with  his  friend's  ;  and  while  the  princes  of  France 
were  treading  the  giddy  mazes  of  the  dance,  or  tilting 
at  each  other  in  the  mimic  war  of  the  tournament,  the 
Prince  of  Scotland,  who  excelled  in  all  the-se  exercises, 
left  the  field  of  gallantry  indisputed  ;  and  moved  in 
this  splendid  scene  an  uninterested  spectator,  talking 
w  ith  Wallace  or  with  Helen  on  events  whicli  yet  lay  in 
fate,  and  whose  theatre  would  be  the  field  of  Scotland. 
So  accustomed  had  the  friends  now  been  to  share  their 
thoughts  with  Lady  Helen,  that  they  consulted  her  in 
all  their  plans,  and  hardly  considered  them  as  fixed  till 
she  had  confirmed  them  by  her  approval.  Her  soul 
was  inspired  v,  ith  the  same  zeal  for  Scotland  which  ani- 
mated their  own  breasts  :  like  Bruce's,  it  w-as  ardent ; 
but  like  Wallace's,  it  was  tempered  with  a  moderation 
which  gave  her  foresight,  and  freed  her  opinion  from 
the  hazard  of  rashness.  What  he  possessed  by  the 
suggestions  of  genius,  or  had  acquired  by  experience. 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  233 

she  learnt  from  love.  It  taught  her  to  be  careful  for  the 
safety  of  Wallace  :  and  while  he  saw  that  his  life  mn^-t 
often  be  put  in  peril  for  Scotland,  her  watchful  spirit, 
with  an  eagle's  ken  perceived  where  his  exposure  was 
not  I'kely  to  produce  advantage. 

The  winds  of  this  season  of  the  year  being  violent 
and  often  adverse,  Wallace's  messenger  did  not  arrive 
at  his  destined  port  in  Scotland,  till  the  middle  of  No- 
vember; and  the  January  of  1299  had  commenced  be- 
fore his  returning  barque  entered  the  mouth  of  the 
Seine. 

Wallace  was  alone  when  Grimsby  opening  the  door, 
announced  Sir  Edwin  Ruthven.  In  a  moment  the 
friends  were  locked  in  each  others  arms.  Edwin,  strain- 
ing Wallace  to  his  heart,  reproached  him  in  affection- 
ate terms  for  having  left  him  behind  ;  but  while  he 
spoke,  joy  shone  through  the  tears  v.'hich  hung  on  his 
eye-lids,  and  with  the  smiles  of  fraternul  love,  again, 
and  again  he  kissed  his  friend's  hand  and  pressed  it  to 
his  bosom.  Wallace  ansv/ered  his  glad  emotions  with 
similar  demonstrations  of  affection  ;  and  when  the 
agitations  of  their  meeting  were  subdued,  he  learned 
from  Edwin  that  he  had  left  the  messenger  at  some  dis- 
tance on  the  road,  so  impatient  was  he  again  to  embrace 
his  friend,  and  to  congratulate  his  dear  cousin  on  her 
escape. 

Edwin  answered  the  anxious  inquiries  of  Wallace 
respecting  his  country,  by  informing  him  that  Badenoch 
having  arrogated  to  himself  the  supreme  power  iu 
Scotland,  had  determined  to  take  every  advantage  c^ 
the  last  victory  gained  over  King  Edward ;  and  in  this 
resolution  he  was  supported  by  the  resentments  of 
Lords  Athol,  Buchan,  and  Soulis,  who  were  returned, 
full  of  indignation,  from  the  court  of  Durham.  Ed- 
ward removed  to  London  :  and  Badenoch,  hearing  that 
he  was  preparing  other  armies  for  the  subjugation  of 
Scotland,  sent  embassadors  to  the  Vatican  to  solicit  the 
Pope's  interference.  Boniface,  flattered  by  this  appeal, 
wrote  a  letter  to  Edward,  exhorting  him  to  refrain  from 
further  oppressing  a  country  over  which  he  had  no 
lawful  power.  Edward's  answer  was  full  of  artifice  and 
falsehood ;  maintainmg  his  pretensions  to  Scotland  by 
u  2 


234  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

the  abandohinent  of  every  good  principle  ;  and  declar- 
ing his  determination  to  consolidate  Great  Britain  into 
one  kingdom,  or  to  make  the  northern  part,  one  uni- 
versal grave.^0  Wallace  sighed  as  he  listened.  "  Ah  ! 
my  dear  Edwin,'*  said  he,  "how  just  is  the  observation 
that  the  almost  total  neglect  of  truth  and  justice  which 
the  generality  of  sovereign  states  discover  in  their 
transactions  with  each  other,  is  an  evil  as  inveterate  as 
it  is  dishonourable  and  ruinous  !  It  is  one  great  source 
of  the  misery  of  the  human  race  ;  a  misery  in  which 
millions  are  involved  without  any  compensation  ;  for  it 
seldom  happens  that  this  dishonesty  contributes  ulti- 
mately even  to  the  interests  of  the  princes  who  thus 
basely  sacrifice  their  integrity  to  their  ambition.  But 
proceed,  my  friend." 

The  consequences  of  this  correspondence,  Edwin 
said,  was  a  renewal  of  hostilities  against  Scotland. 
Badcnoch  took  Sir  Simon  Eraser  as  his  colleague  in 
military  duty,  and  a  stout  resistance  was  for  some  time 
made  on  the  borders  ;  but  Berwick  was  at  last  taken  by 
Lord  Percy,  and  the  brave  Lord  Dundaff  killed  defend- 
ing the  citadel.  Many  other  places  fell ;  and  battles 
were  fought  in  which  the  English  were  every  where 
victorious  :  "For,"  added  Edwin,  "  none  of  your  gene- 
rals would  draw  a  sv/ord  under  the  command  of  Ba- 
denoch;  and  alarmed  at  the  consequence,  the  Bishop 
of  Dunkeld  is  gone  to  Rome  to  entreat  the  Pope  to  or- 
der your  return.  The  Southrons  are  advancing  into 
Scotland  in  every  direction.  They  have  landed  again 
on  the  eastern  coast;  they  have  possessed  themselves 
of  all  the  border  counties  ;  and  without  your  heaven- 
anointed  arm  to  avert  the  blow,  our  country  must  be 
irretrievably  lost." 

Edwin  had  brought  letters  from  Ruthven  and  the 
young  Earl  of  Bothwell,  which  more  particularly  nar- 
rated these  disastrous  events,  and  enforced  every  argu- 
ment to  persuade  Wallace  to  return.  They  gave  it  as 
their  opinion,  that  he  should  revisit  Scotland  under  an 
assumed  name.  Did  he  come  openly,  the  jealousy  of 
the  Scottish  lords  would  be  re-awakened,  and  perhaps 
they  might  put  the  finishing  stroke  to  their  country,  h|c 
taking  him  off  by  assassination  or  poison.     Ruthyen 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  235 

^and  Bothwell  therefore  entreated  that,  as  it  was  his 
wisdom,  as  well  as  his  valour,  his  country  required,  he 
would  hasten  to  Scotland,  and  condescend  to  serve  hev 
unrecognised,  till  Bruce  should  be  established  on  the 
throne. 

While  Edwin  was  conducted  to  the  apartments  of 
Lady  Helen,  Wallace  took  these  letters  to  his  prince. 
On   Bruce   being  informed   of  the    circumstances  in 

which  his  country  lay,  and  of  the  wishes  of  its  most 
virtuous  chiefs  for  his  accession  to  the  crown,  he  as- 
sented to  the  prudence  of  their  advice  with  regard  to 
Wallace.  "  But,"  added  he,  "  our  fortunes  must  in 
every  respect,  as  far  as  I  can  mould  them,  be  the 
same.  While  you  are  to  serve  Scotland  under  a  cloud, 
so  will  1.  At  the  moment  Bruce  is  proclaimed  King 
of  Scotland,  Wallace  shall  be  declared  its  bravest 
friend.  We  will  go  together :  as  brothers,  if  you 
will  1'*  continued  he,  "as  I  am  already  considered  by 
the  French  nobility  as  Thomas  de  Longueville,  you 
may  personate  his  elder  brother  the  Red  Reaver : — . 
Scotland  does  not  yet  know  that  he  v/as  slain.  Were 
you  to  wear  the  title  you  bear  here,  a  quarrel  might 
ensue  between  Philip  and  Edward,  which  I  perceive 
the  former  is  not  willing  should  occur  openly,  Ed- 
ward would  deem  it  a  brea.ch  of  their  amity,  did  he 
permit  a  French  prince  to  appear  in  arms  against  him 
in  Scotland.  But  the  Reaver  being  considered  in  Eng- 
land as  an  outlaw,  no  surprise  can  be  excited  that  he 
and  his  brother  should  fight  against  Philip's  ally.  We 
will  then  assume  their  characters  ;  and  I  shall  have  the 
satisfaction  of  serving  for  Scotland  before  I  claim  her 
as  my  own.  When  we  again  drive  Edward  over  the 
borders,  on  that  day  we  will  throw  off  our  visors,  and 
Sir  William  Wallace  shall  place  the  crown  on  my 
head." 

Wallace  could  not  but  approve  the  dignity  of  mind 
which  these  sentiments  displayed.     In  the   same  situa- 

,tion,they  would  have  been  his  own  ;  and  he  sought  not 
from  any  motive  of  policy,  to  dissuade  Bruce  from  a  de- 
licacy of  conduct  which  drew  him  closer  to  his  heart. 
Sympathy  of  tastes  is  a  pleasing  attraction  :  but  conge- 
niality of  principles  is  the  cement  of  souls.     This  Wal- 


236  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 


4 


lace  felt  in  his  new-born  friendship  with  Bruce  ;  and' 
though  his  regard  for  him  had  none  of  that  fosterujg 
tenderness  with  which  he  loved  lo  contemplate  the 
blooming  virtues  of  the  youthful  Edwin,  yet  it  breathed 
every  endearment  arising  from  a  perfect  equality  in 
heart  and  mind.  It  v/as  the  true  fraternal  tie  ;  and  while 
he  talked  with  him  on  the  fulfilment  of  their  enterprise, 
he  inwardly  thanked  heaven  for  blessing  him  so  abun- 
dantly. He  had  found  a  son  in  Edwin  ;  and  a  brother, 
a  tender  sister,  in  the  noble  Bruce,  and  lovely  Helen. 

Bruce  received  Edwin  with  a  welcome  which  con- 
vinced the  before  anxious  youth  that  he  met  with  a 
friend,  rather  thana  rival, in  the  heart  of  Wallace.  And 
every  preliminary  being  settled  by  the  three  friends, 
respecting  their  immediate  return  to  Scotland,  they  re- 
p^red  to  Philip,  to  inform  him  of  Lord  Ruthven's  dis- 
p;atches  and  their  consequent  resolutions. 

The  king  liked  all  they  said,  excepting  their  request 
to  be  permitted  to  take  an  early  leave  of  his  court.  He 
urged  them  to  remain  a  few  days,  to  await  the  return  of 
a  second  embassador  he  had  sent  to  England  Immedi- 
ately on  Wallace's  arrival,  Philip  had  dispatched  a  re- 
quest to  the  English  king,  that  he  would  grant  the  Scots 
the  peace  which  was  their  right.  Not  receiving  any 
answer,  he  had  sent  another  messenger  with  a  more 
threatening  message.  The  persevered  hostilities  of 
Edward  against  Scotland,  explained  the  delay.  But  the 
king  yet  hoped  for  aCavourable  reply,  and  made  such 
entreaties  to  Bruce  and  his  friend  to  remain  in  Paris  till 
it  should  arrive,  that  they  at  last  granted  a  reluctant 
consent. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  the  embassador  returned  with 
a  conciliatory  letter  to  Philip  ;  but  affirming  Edward's 
right  to  Scotland,  and  his  determination  to  have  the 
whole  realm  again  under  his  sceptre  before  the  termi- 
nation of  the  month. 

Wallace  and  his  royal  friend  now  saw  no  reason  for 
lingering  ii>  France.  And  having  visited  De  Longue- 
ville  at  Chartres,  they  apprized  him  of  their  inten- 
tion still  further  to  borrow  his  name.  "  We  will  not 
disgrace  it,"  cried  Bruce,  <'  I  promise  to  return  it  to 
you,  a  theme  for  your  country's  minstrels  1"     When 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  237 

the  friends  rose  to  depart,  the  brave  and  youthful  peni- 
tent g-raspcd  tlieir  hands — "  You  go,  brave  Scots,  to 
cover  with  glory  in  the  field  of  honour,  a  name  whicJi 
my  unhappy  brother  Guy,  dyed  deep  in  his  country's 
blood  I  The  tears  I  weep  before  this  cross  for  his  and 
my  transgression,  have  obtained  me  mercy :  and  your 
design  is  an  earnest  to  me  from  him  v/ho  hung  on  tiiis 
tree,  that  my  brother  also  is  forgiven." 

At  an  early  hour  next  day,  Wallace  and  Bruce  took 
leave  of  the  French  king.  The  queen  kissed  Helen 
affectionately,  and  whispered,  while  she  tied  a  jewelled 
collar  round  her  neck,  that  when  she  returned  she  hoped 
to  add  to  it  the  coronet  of  Gascony.  Helen's  only  re- 
ply was  a  gentle  sigh,  and  her  eye  turned  unconscious- 
ly on  Wallace.  He  was  clad  in  a  plain  suit  of  black 
armour  with  the  red  plume  in  his  helmet,  the  ensign  of 
the  Reaver,  whose  name  he  had  assumed.  All  of  his 
former  habit  that  he  now  wore  about  him,  was  the  sword 
which  he  had  taken  from  Edward.  Prince  Louis,  at 
the  moment  Helen  looked  towards  Wallace,  was  plac- 
ing a  cross-hilted  dagger  in  his  girdle.  "  My  deliver- 
er,'* said  he,  "  wear  this  for  the  sake  of  the  descendant 
©f  St.  Louis.  It  accompanied  that  holy  king  through 
all  his  wars  in  Palestine.  It  twice  saved  him  from  the 
assassin's  steel ;  and  I  pray  heaven  it  may  prove  as 
faithful  a  guard  to  you  !" 

Soon  after  this,  Douglas  and  Cummin  entered  to  pay 
their  parting  respects  to  the'king  ;  and  that  over,  Wal- 
lace taking  Helen  by  the  hand,  led  her  forth,  followed 
by  Bruce  and  his  friends,  to  her  horse.  At  Dieppe  they 
embarked  for  the  Frith  of  Tay ;  and  a  favourable  gale 
driving  them  through  the  straits  of  Calais,  tiiey  launch- 
ed out  in  the  wide  ocean. 


CHAP.  XXII. 

.1  HE  eighth  morning  from  the  day  in  which  the  Red 
Rpavr,r's  ship  was  re-launched  from  the  harbour  of 
Dieppe,  Wallace,  its  present  commander,  and  now  the 
repj^esentative  of  that  once  formidable  pirate,  entered 


238  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

between  the  castled  shores  of  the  Frith  of  Tay,  and 
cast  anchor  under  the  towers  of  Dundee.  As  he  bore 
the  white  flag;  of  peace,  no  opposition  was  made  to  his 
landing  ;  and  the  sight  of  Sir  Edwin  Ruthven,  who  was 
the  first  to  leap  on  the  beach,  satisfied  the  inhabitants 
that  all  who  came  with  him  must  be  friends  to  Scotland. 

When  Bruce  first  set  foot  upon  the  land,  he  turned  to 
Wallace,  and  said  with  exultation,  though  in  a  low  voice, 
''  Scotland  now  receives  her  king  I  This  earth  shall  co- 
ver me,  or  support  my  throne  i"  "  It  shall  support 
your  throne,  and  bless  it  too,'*  replied  Wallace,  "  you 
are  come  in  the  power  of  justice,  and  that  is  the  power 
of  God.  I  know  Him  in  whom  I  bid  you  confide,  for 
He  has  been  my  shield  and  sword,  and  never  yet  have 
I  turned  my  back  upon  my  enemies.  Trust,  my  dear 
prince,  where  I  have  trusted  ;  and  while  virtue  is  your 
incense,  you  need  not  doubt  the  issue  of  your  prayers.*' 
Had  Wallace  seen  the  face  of  Bruce  at  that  moment, 
but  the  visor  concealed  it,  he  would  have  beheld  an  an- 
swer in  his  eloquent  eyes  which  required  not  words  to 
explain.  He  grasped  the  hand  of  Wallace  with  fer- 
vour, and  briefly  replied — "  Your  God  shall  be  my  God, 
your  worship  my  worship,  and  I  trust  heaven  for-  all 
the  rest." 

The  chiefs  did  not  stay  longer  at  Dundee  than  was 
requisite  to  furnish  them  with  horses  to  convey  them  to 
Perth,  where  Ruthfven  still  bore  sway.  When  they 
arrived,  he  was  at  Hunting-tower,  and  thither  they  went. 
The  meeting  was  fraught  with  many  mingled  feelings. 
Helen  had  not  seen  her  uncle  since  the  death  of  her 
father;  and,  as  soon  as  the  first  gratulations  were  over, 
she  retired  to  an  apartment  to  weep  alone. 

Lord  Ruthven,  on  Cummin  being  presented  to  him, 
told  him  that  he  must  now  salute  him  as  Earl  of  Bade- 
noch,  for  that  his  brother,  the  late  Regent,  had  been  kil- 
led a  few  days  before  in  a  battle  on  the  skirts  of  Ettrick 
Forest.  He  then  turned  to  welcome  Bi  uce,  who,  tffi- 
sing  his  visor,  received  from  Ruthven  the  homage  due 
to  his  sovereign  dignity.  Wallace  and  the  prince  soon 
engaged  him  in  a  discourse  immediately  connected 
with  the  design  of  their  return,  and  learnt  that  Scotland 
did  indeed  require  the  royal  arm  and  the  counsel  of  its 


m 


:  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  239 

We&t  aiid  lately  almost  banished  friend.  The  whole  of 
the  eastern  part  of  the  country  -vvas  in  the  possession  of 
Edward's  generals.  They  had  seized  on  every  castle 
in  the  Lowlands  ;  and  after  a  dauntless  defence,  in 
which  the  veteran  knight  of  Thirlestane  behaved  with 
a  steady  valour  miraculous  in  so  old  a  man,  he  fell,  and 
with  himself  his  only  son  and  his  castle.  The  sage  of 
Ercildoun,  having  protected  Lady  Isabella  Mar  at  Lear- 
mont  during  the  siege  of  Thirlestane,  on  hearing  its 
fate  conveyed  her  northward  :  but  falling  sick  at  Ros- 
lyn,  he  stopped  there  ;  and  the  messenger,  he  dispatch- 
ed to  Hunting-tower  with  the  calamitous  tiding  respec- 
ting Tweedale,  also  bore  information  that  several  advan- 
ced parties  of  Southrons  were  hovering  on  the  heights 
near  Roslyn,  and  that  an  immense  army  was  approach- 
ing.— Ercildoun  added,  that  he  understood  Sir  Simon 
Eraser  was  hastening  forward  with  a  small  body  to  cut 
off  these  squadrons  ;  but  that  from  the  contentions  be- 
tween Athol  and  Soulis  for  the  vacant  regency,  he  had 
no  hopes,  were  his  forces  even  equal  to  those  of  En- 
gland, that 'he  could  succeed. 

At  this  communication.  Cummin  bluntly  proposed 
himself  as  the  terminator  of  this  dispute.  '^  If  the  re- 
gency were  allowed  to  my  brother  as  head  of  the  house 
of  Cummin,  that  dignity  now  rests  with  me;  and,  give 
the  word  my  sovereign,"  said  he  addressing  Bruce, 
"  and  none  there  will  dare  to  oppose  my  rights." — 
Ruthven  approved  this  proposal :  and  Wallace,  deeming 
it  not  only  the  best  way  of  silencing  the  pretensions  of 
those  old  disturbers  of  the  public  tranquillity,  but  a  hap- 
py circumstance  in  putting  the  chief  magistracy  into 
the  hands  of  a  confident  of  their  design,  seconded  the 
advice  of  Ruthven;  and  John  Cummin,  Lord  Baden- 
och,  was  immediately  invested  v/ith  the  regency,  and 
dispatched  to  the  army  to  assume  it  as  if  in  right  of  his 
being  next  heir  to  the  throne  in  default  of  Bruce. 

Wallace  sent  Lord  Douglas  into  Clydesdale  to  in- 
form Lord  Bothweii  of  his  arrival,  and  to  desire  his  at- 
tendance v.'ith  the  Lanark  division  and  his  own  troops, 
on  the  banks  of  the  Eske.  Ruthven  ascended  the 
Grampians  to  call  out  the  numerous  clans  of  Perth- 
shire :  and  Wallace  and  his  prince  prepared  themselves 


'it' 

S.I 


240  THE  SCOTTISH   CHIEFS. 

for  meeting-  these  auxiliaries  before  the  tower  of  Ros- 
lyn.  Meanwhile,  as  Hunting-tower  would  be  an  inse- 
cure asylum  for  Helen,  when  it  should  be  left  to  domes- 
tics alone,  Wallace  proposed  to  Edwin  that  he  should 
escort  his  cousin  to  Braemar  and  place  her  under  the 
care  of  his  mother  and  the  widowed  Countess.  "  Thith-  j 
er,"  continued  he,  "  we  will  send  Lady  Isabella  also,  | 
should  heaven  bless  our  arms  at  Roslyn."  Edwin  ac-  ' 
quiesced,  as  he  was  to  return  with  all  speed  to  join  his 
friend  on  the  southern  bank  of  the  Forth  ;  and  Helen, 
aware  that  fields  of  blood  were  no  scenes  for  her,  while 
her  heart  was  wrung*  to  agony  at  the  thought  of  relin- 
quishing Wallace  to  dangers  which  every  moment 
threatened  to  deprive  her  of  him  for  ever,  yielded  a  re- 
luctant assent — not  merely  to  go,  but  to  take  that  look 
©f  him  which  might  be  the  last. 

The  sight  of  her  uncle  and  the  objects  around,  had  so 
recalled  the  days  of  her  infancy,  when  in  this  castle  she 
enjoyed  the  fond  caresses  of  her  father,  that  ever  since 
she  arrived,  a  sadness  had  hung  over  her  spirits  which 
often  dissolved  her  into  tears.  She  was  now  "to  bid  adieu 
to  Wallace.  She  remembered  that  a  few  months  ago 
she  had  seen  her  father  go  out  to  battle  whence  he  never 
returned. — Should  the  same  doom  await  her  with  re- 
gard to  Wallace  I — This  idea  shook  her  whole  frame 
with  an  agitation  that  sunk  her,  in  spite  of  herself,  on  the 
bosom  of  Wallace  as  Edwin  approached  to  lead  her  to 
her  horse.  Her  emotions  penetrated  the  heart  against 
which  she  leaned.  "  My  gentle  sister,''  said  Wallace, 
"  do  not  despair  of  our  final  success  ;  of  the  safety  of  all 
whom  you  regard.''  "  Ah  !  Wallace,"  faltered  she  in 
a  voice  rendered  hardly  audible  by  tears,  "  but  did  I  not 
lose  my  father  ?" — "  Sweet  Helen,"  returned  he,  ten- 
derly retaining  her  trembling  form  which  she  now  at- 
tempted, but  feebly  from  her  emotion,  to  extricate  from 
his  arms,  "  you  lost  him,  but  he  gained  by  the  exchange. 
And  should  the  peace  of  Scotland  be  purchased  by  the 
lives  of  some  who  contend  for  her  emancipation,  should 
they  even  be  your  friends,  if  Bruce  survives,  you  must 
still  think  your  prayers  blest.  Were  I  to  fall,  my  sister, 
in  this  cause,  my  sorrows  would  be  over ;  and  from  the 
region  of  universal  blessedness  I  should  enjoy  the  sight 
of  Scotland's  happiness  with  unmixed  felicity." 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  241 

"  Were  we  all  to  enter  those  regions  at  one  time," 
faintly  replied  Helen,  "  there  would  be  comfort  in  such 

thoughts  ;  but  as  it  is "  here  she  paused,  her  tears 

stopped  her  utterance.  "  A  few  years  is  a  short  sepa- 
ration," returned  Wallace,  "  when  we  are  to  be  here- 
after united  to  all  eternity.  This  is  my  consolation 
when  I  think  of  Marion, — when  memory  dwells  with 
the  friends  lost  in  these  dreadful  conflicts  :  and,  what- 
ever be  the  fate  of  thdse  who  now  survive,  call  to  re- 
membrance my  words,  dear  Helen,  and  the  God,  who 
was  my  instructor,  will  send  you  comfort." 

"  Then  farewell  my  friend,  my  bi'otherl"  cried  she, 
forcibly  tearing  herself  away,  and  throwing  herself  into 
the  arms  of  Edwin,  "  Leave  me  now,  and  the  angel  of 
the  just  will  bring  you  in  glory  here  or  hereafter  to 
your  sister  Helen."  Wallace  fervently  kissed  the  hand 
she  extended  to  him,  and  with  an  emotion  which  he 
had  thought  he  should  never  feel  again  for  mortal  wo- 
man, he  left  the  apartment. 


CHAP.  XXH. 

I  1  HE  day  after  the  departure  of  Helen,  Wallace,  to 
indulge  the  impatience  of  his  royal  companion,  set 
forth  to  meet  the  returning  steps  of  Ruthven  with  his 
gathered  legions.  Having  passed  along  the  romantic 
borders  of  Invermay,  the  friends  descended  to  the  more 
precipitous  banks  of  the  Earn  at  the  foot  of  the  Gram- 

I  plans,  and  wound  amongst  the  depths  of  those  green 
labyrinths,  till  Bruce,  who  had  never  been  in  such 
mountainous  wilds  before,  exclaimed,  that  they  must 
have  wandered  far  from  any  human  track.  "  The  way 
is  as  familiar  to  me,'*  returned  Wallace,  who  had  often 
trodden  it;  "  as  the  garden  of  Hunting-tower." 

The  day,  which  had  been  cloudy,  suddenly  turned  to 
wind  and  rain;  and  certainly  spread  an  air  of  desola- 
tion over  the  scene  ;  very  dreary  to  an  eye  which  from 
infancy  had  been  accustomed  to  the  fertile  plains  of  the 
ever-cheerful  south.  The  whole  of  the  road  was 
rough,  diingerous,  and  dreadful.     The  steep  and  bl^ck 

VOL.  II.  X 


242  THE  SCOTTISH  ^HIEFS. 

rocks  towering  above  their  heads,  seemed  to  threaten  ' 
the  precipitation  of  some  of  their  impending  masses  into 
the  path  below.  But  Wallace  had  told  Bruce  they  were 
in  the  right  track ;  and  he  gaily  breasted  both  the  storm 
and'"the  perils  of  the  road.  They  ascended  a  mountain 
whose  'enormous  piles  of  granite,  torn  by  many  a  win- 
ter tempest,  projected  their  barren  summits  from  a 
surface  of  moor-land  on  which  lay  a  deep  incrustation 
of  snow. — The  blast  now  blew  so  strong,  and  the  rain 
and  sleet  beat  so  hard,  that  Bruce,  laughing,  declared 
he  believed  the  witches  of  his  country  were  in  league 
with  Edward,  and  hid  in  their  shrouds  of  mist  were  all 
assembled  here  to  drive  their  lawful  prince  into  the 
roaring  cataracts  beneath. 

Thus,  with  torrents  of  water  pouring  down  the  sides  of 
their  armour,  did  the  friends,  enveloped  in  a  sea  of  va- 
pours, descend  the  western  brow  of  this  part  of  the 
Grampians  until  they  came  to  the  margin  of  Loch-earn. 
They  had  hardly  arrived  there  before  the  rain  ceased, 
the  clouds  rolled  away  from  the  sides  of  the  montains, 
and  discovered  the  vast  and  precipitous  Bcnvorlich.  Its 
base  was  covered  with  huge  stones  scattered  in  frag- 
ments, like  the  wreck  of  some  rocky  world,  and  spread 
abroad  in  wide  and  horrid  desolation.  The  mountain 
itself,  the  highest  in  this  chain  of  the  Grampians,  was 
in  every  part  marked  by  deep  and  black  ravines  made 
by  the  rushing  waters  in  the  time  of  floods;  but  where 
its  blue  head  mingled  with  the  clouds,  a  stream  of  bright- 
ness issued  that  seemed  to  promise  the  dispersion  of  j 
its  vapours,  and  consequently  a  more  secure  path  fori 
WsUace  to  lead  his  friend  over  its  perilous  heights. 

This  appearance  did  not  deceive. — The  whole  man- 
tle of  clouds  with  which  the  tops  of  all  the  mountains 
had  been  obscured,  roiled  away  towards  the  west,  and, 
discovered  to  the  eye  of  Wallace  that  this  line  of  light'ii 
which  he  had  discerned  through  the  mist,  was  the  host^ 
of  Ruthven  descending  Benvorlich  in  defiles.     From 
the  nature  of  the  path,  they  were  obliged  to  move  in  a 
winding  direction;  and  as  the  sun  now  shone  full  upon 
their  arms,  and  their  lengthened  lines  gradually  extend- 
ed from  the  summit  of  the  mountain  to   its  base,   no 
sight  could  contain  more  of  the  sublime;  none  of  truer 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  243 

grandeur,  to  the  euraptured  mind  of  Bruce.  He  for- 
got his  horror  of  the  wastes  he  had  passed  over,  in  the 
joy  q)f  beholding  so  i;oble  an  army  of  his  countrymen 
thus  approaching  to  place  him  upon  the  throne  of  his 
ancestors.  "Wallace,"  cried  he,  "  these  brave  hearts 
deserve  a  more  cheerful  home  !  My  sceptre  must 
turn  this  Scotia  dcserta  into  Scotia  ftiix^  and  so  I  shall 
reward  the  service  they  this  day  bring  me."  "  They 
are  happy  in  these  wilds,"  returned  Wallace: — 
''  their  flocks  browse  on  the  hills,  their  herds  in  the 
vallies.  The  soil  yields  sufficient  increase  to  support 
its  sons ;  and  their  greatest  luxuries  arc  a  minstrel's 
song  and  the  lip  of  their  brides.  Their  ambition  is  sa- 
tisfied with  following  their  chief  to  the  field;  and  their 
honour  lies  in  serving  their  God,  and  maintaining  the 
freedom  of  their  country.  Beware  then,  my  dear 
prince,  of  changing  the  simple  habits  of  those  virtu- 
ous mountaineers.  Introduce  the  luxurious  cultivation 
of  France  into  these  tracts,  you  will  infect  them  with 
artificial  wants  ;  and  with  every  want  you  put  a  link  to  a 
chain  v/hich  will  fasten  them  in  bondage  whenever  a 
tyrant  chooses  to  grasp  it.  Leave  them  then  their 
rocks  as  you  find  them,  and  you  wall  ever  have  a  hardy 
race  ready  to  perish  in  their  defence,  or  to  meet  death 
for  the  royal  guardian  of  their  liberties." 

Lord  Ruthven  no  sooner  reached  the  banks  of  Loch- 
earn,  than  he  espied  the  prince  and  Wallace. — Hfr 
joined  them ;  and  marshalling  his  men  in  a  wide  tract 
cf  land  at  the  head  of  that  vast  body  of  water,  he  plac- 
ed himself,  with  the  two  supposed  De  Longuevilles,  in 
the  van,  and  marched  through  the  vallies  of  Strathmore 
and  Strathallan,  into  Stirlingshire.  The  Earl  of  Fife 
had  the  government  of  the  castle  and  town  of  Stirling , 
and  as  he  was  a  man  much  in  the  interest  of  the  late 
Lord  Badenoch  the  violent  enemy  of  Wallace,  Bruce 
negatived  Ruthven's  proposal  to  send  in  a  messenger 
for  the  earl's  division  of  troops :  "  No,  my  lord,"  said 
he,  "  like  my  friend  Wallace,  I  will  have  no  luke-warm 
hearts  near  me  ;  all  must  be  earnest  in  my  cause,  or  be 
entirely  out  of  the  contest — I  am  conteiit  with  the 
brave  men  I  see  around  me." 


A' 


244  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

After  rapid  marches  and  short  haltings  they  arrived 
safe  and  without  any  impediment  at  Linlithgow,  where 
Wallace  proposed  staying  a  night  to  refresh  the  troops, 
Avhich  were  now  joined  by  Sir  Alexander  Ramsay  at 
the  head  of  a  thousand  of  Iiis  clan.  While  the  men 
look  rest,  their  chiefs  waked  to  think  for  them.  And 
Wallace,  with  Bruce  and  Ruthven  and  the  brave  Ram- 
say, (to  whom  Wallace  had  revealed  himself,  but  still 
kept  Bruce  unknown)  were  in  deep  consultation  re-  _ 
specting  the  consequences  of  having  put  so  efficient  a  » 
power  as  that  of  Regent  into  the  hands  of  any  of  the  *f 
race  of  Cummin,  when  Grimsby  entered  to  inform  his 
master  that  a  young  knight  desired  to  speak  with  Sir 
Guy  de  Longueville.  "  What  is  his  name  ?'*  demand- 
ed Wallace.  "  He  refused  to  tell  it,"  replied  Grismby. 
'^  He  is  splendidly  armed  ;  but  as  he  wears  his  beaver 
shut,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  say  any  thing  of  his 
countenance."  Wallace  looked  round  with  a  glance 
that  inquired  whether  the  stranger  should  be  admitted. 
"  Certainly,"  s?id  Bruce,  "  but  first  put  on  your  mask.'* 
Wallace  closed  his  visor;  ai;d  the  moment  after  Grimsby 
re-entered  with  a  knight  of  a  very  majestic  mien,  and 
habited  in  a  suit  of  green  armour  studded  with  gold. 
He  wore  a  lielmet  from  which  streamed  a  long  feather 
of  the  same  hue.  Wallace  rose  at  his  entrance  ;  the 
stranger  advanced  to  him.  "  You  are  he  whom  I  seek. 
—I  am  a  Scot,  and  a  man  of  few  words.  Accept  my 
services  ;  allow  me  to  attend  you  i.>  this  war,  never  to 
be  separated  from  your  side,  and  I  will  serve  you  faith- 
fully. Wallace  replied,  "  And  who  is  the  bsave  knight 
to  whom  Sir  Guy  de  Longueville  will  owe  so  great  an 
obligation."  "My  name,"  answered  the  s;ranger, 
"  shall  not  be  revealed  till  he  who  now  wears  that  of 
the  Reaver  whom  he  slew,  proclaims  his  own  in  the 
day  of  victory. — I  know  you,  sir,  but  your  secret  is  as 
safe  with  me  as  in  your  own  breast.  Allow  me  to  fight 
by  your  side,  and  I  am  yours  for  ever." 

'  Wallace  was  surprised,  but  not  confounded,  by  this 
speech-  "  I  have  only  one  question  to  ask  you,  noble 
stranger,"  replied  he,  "before  I  confide  any  part  of  a 
cause  dearer  to  me  than  my  own  life,  in  your  integrity  ; 
tell  me  whether  the  iAformation  you  have  gained  with 


1 


[  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  245 

i  respect  to  myself,  was  revealed  to  you  by  any  follower 
[  of  my  own  ?  Or  how  did  you  become  master  of  a  se- 
I  cret  which  I  believed  out  of  the  power  of  eren  treach- 
ery to  betray  ?"  "  To  one  of  your  questions  I  will  an- 
swer.— No  follower  of  yours  has  betrayed  your  secret 
to  me. — I  came  by  my  information  in  the  most  honoura- 
ble manner ;  but  the  means  I  shall  never  reveal  till  I 
see  the  proper  time  to  declare  my  name  ;  and  that  mdry 
perhaps  be  in  the  same  moment  in  which  the  assumed 
brother  of  that  young  Frenchman,"  added  the  stranger, 
turning  to  Brvce,  "  again  appears  publicly  in  Scotland 
a«r  Sir  William  Wallace." 

"  I  am  satisfied,"  replied  he  ;  well-pleased  that,  who- 
i  ever  this  knight  might  be,  Bruce  yet  remained  undis- 
■  covered  ;  "  I  grant  your  request. — This  brave   youth, 
whose  name  I  share,  f   .gives   me  the   success  of  my 
sword ;  I  slew  the  Red   Reaver,  and  therefore  make 
i  myself  a  brother  to  Thomas  de  Longueville.    He  fights 
on  my  right  hand. — You  shall  be  stationed  at  my  left." 
"At  the  side  next  your  heart,  noble  chief:"  exclaimed 
the  stranger,  "let  that  everbe  my  post, there  to  guard 
the  bulwark  of  Scotland,  the  life  of  the  bravest  of  men." 
This  enthusiasm   did  not  surprise  any  present ;  for 
it  was  the   usual  language  of  all  who  approached  Sir 
William  Wallace.     And   Bruce   particularly  pleased 
with  the  heart-felt  energy  with  which  it  was   uttered, 
forgot  his  disguise  in  the  amiable  fervour  of  approba- 
tion, and  half-rose  to  welcome  him  to  his  cause  ;  But  a 
look  from  Wallace,  (who  on  being  known,  had  uncov- 
ered his   face)  arrested  the  motion,  and  he  sat  down 
again,  thankful   for  so  timely  a  check  on  his  precipi- 
tancy. 

In  crossing  the  Pentland-Hills  next  day  into  Midlo- 
thian, they  were  met  by  Edwin,  who  had  crossed  from 
the  north  by  the  Frith  of  Forth,  and  having  heard  no 
tidings  of  the  Scottish  army  iu  the  neighbourhood  of 
Edinburgh,  had  proceeded  on  the  road  he  knev/  it  must 
take.  Wallace  introduced  him  to  the  knight  of  the 
green  plume  :  for  that  was  the  appellation  by  which  the 
stranger  desired  to  be  known  : — And  Edwin  answered 
the  mingled  inquiries  of  his  father  and  Wallace  after 
how  Helen  bore  her  journey  to  Mar  i—"  Pretty  well 
X  2 


246  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

there,"  replied  he,  «  but  much  better  back  again." — H.6^ 
then  explained,  that  on  his  arrival  with  Helen  at  Brae-' 
mar,  neither  Lady  Mar  nor  his  mother  would  consent 
to  remain  so  far  from  the  spot  where  Wallace  was  again 
to  contend  for  the  safety  of  their  country.  Helen  did 
not  say  any  thing  in  opposition  to  their  wishes  :  and  at 
last  Edwin  yielded  to  the  tears  of  his  mother,  anxious 
for  her  husband;  and  to  the  entreaties  of  Lady  Mar,  to 
bring  them  where  they  might  at  least  not  long  endure 
the  misery  of  suspense.  Having  once  consented,  with- 
out an  hour's  delay  he  set  forth  with  the  ladies  to  re- 
trace his  steps  to  Hunting-tower ;  and  there  he  left  them 
under  a  guard  of  three  hundred  men  whom  he  brought 
from  Mar  for  that  pupose. 

Wallace  much  regretted  the  additional  fatigue  which 
the  tender  frame  of  Lady  Helc^'  had  thus  been  compel- 
led to  undergo;  but  as  Edwin  had  provided  for  the  se- 
curity of  Hunting-tower,  both  he  and  Ruthven  were  re- 
conciled to  their  being  so  much  the  nearer  news  of 
(what  they  trusted  would  be)  the  happy  issue  of  their 
arms.  Bruce  whose  real  name  had  not  been  revealed 
to  the  other  ladies  of  Ruthven*s  family,  in  a  lowered 
voice  asked  Edwin  some  questions  relative  to  the  spir- 
its in  which  Helen  had  parted  with  him.  "  In  losing 
her,*'  added  he,  "  my  friend  and  I  feel  but  as  part  of 
what  we  were. — Her  presence  seemed  to  ameliorate 
the  fierceness  of  our  war-councils;  and  ever  reminded 
me  of  the  guardian  angel  by  whom  heaven  points  our 
way."  "  I  left  her  with  looks  like  the  angel  you  speak 
of,"  answered  EdAvin  ;  "  she  bade  me  farewell  upon  the 
platform  of  the  eastern  tower  of  the  castle.  When  I 
gave  her  a  parting  embrace,  she  raised  herself  from 
my  breast,  and  stretching  her  arms  to  heaven,  while 
iierpuresoul  shone  in  her  eyes,  she  exclaimed,"  Bless 
him,  gracious  God ;  bless  him  and  his  noble  comman- 
der ;  may  they  ever,  with  the  prince  they  love,  be 
thine  especial  care  1"  I  knelt  by  her,  my  dear  friend, 
as  she  uttered  these  words,  and  touching  the  hem  of 
her  garments  as  some  holy  thing,  hurried  from  the 
spot.  When  mounted  on  my  horse,  and  turning  down 
by  St.  Concal's  well,  I  looked  back,  and  there  she  still 
«^tood  I     She  waved  her  scarf  towards  m.c,  till  entering 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  247 

the  wood  I  lost  her  from  my  view."  "  Her  prayers,'* 
said  Wallace,  "  will  fight  for  Scotland. — Such  arms 
are  veil  befitting  the  virgins  of  Scotland  to  use  against 
its  foes ;  and  without  such  unction  the  warrior  may 
draw  his  steel  in  vain." 

The  stranger  knight,  the  moment  after  his  introduc- 
tion to  Edwin,  had  engaged  himself  in  conversation 
with  Ramsay.  But  Lord  Ruthven,  turning  from  the 
minuter  inquiries  of  his  friends  respecting  the  fair  in- 
habitants of  Hunting-tower,  interrupted  the  discourse 
between  the  two  knights,  by  asking  Ramsay  some  ques- 
tions relative  to  the  military  positions  on  the  banks  of 
either  Eske.  Sir  Alexander  being  the  grandson  of  the 
Lord  of  Roslyn,  and  having  passed  his  youth  in  its 
neighbourhood,  was  well  qualified  to  answer  these  ques- 
tions ;  and  Wallace  drawing  towards  the  discussion, 
Bruce  and  Edwin  followed  his  example ;  and  in  such 
discourse  they  marched  along  till,  passing  before  the 
lofty  ridge  of  the  Corstorphine  hills,  they  were  met  by 
several  groups  of  peasantry,  flying  as  if  from  an  enemy. 
At  sight  of  the  Scottish  banners  they  stopped,  and  in- 
formed their  armed  countrymen,  that  the  new  Regent 
John  of  Badenoch,  had,  in  opposition  to  the  advice  of 
Sir  Simon  Eraser,  attacked  the  Southron  army  on  its 
vantage  ground  near  Borthwick  Castle,  and  was  conse- 
quently beaten.  His  shattered  troops  had  fallen  back 
towards  Edinburgh, hoping  to  cross  the  Forth  and  elude 
their  pursuers.  The  country  people,  dismayed,  fled 
on  all  sides ;  and  these  peasants,  who  came  from  Haw- 
thorndean,  magnified  by  their  report  the  number  of  the 
enemy  to  an  incredible  amount. 

Wallace  knew  how  much  to  believe  :  but  determin- 
ing, whether  great  or  small  the  power  of  his  adversary, 
jto  intercept   him  at  Roslyn,  he  sent  to  Cummin  and  to 
JFraser  to  rendezvous  on  the  banks  of  the  Eske.     The 
[brave  troops  v.hich  he  led,  ignorant  of  their  real  com- 
imander,  obeyed  his  directions  while  they  thought  that 
j  Lord  Ruthven  was  their  leader.     As  they  passed  along, 
i  every  village  and  solitary  cot  seemed  recently  deserted  ; 
I  and  through  an  awful  solitude    they  took  their  rapid 
way  till  the  towers  of  Roslyn  Castle  hailed  thej.i  as  a 
beacon  from  amidst  the  wooded  heights  of  the  north 


248  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Eske.  "  There,"  cried  Ramsay,  pointins^  to  the  em- 
battled rock, "  stands  the  fortress  of  my  forefathers  1 
It  shall  this  day  be  made  famous  for  the  actiony  per- 
formed before  its  walls  !" 

Wallace,  whose  knowledge  of  this  part  of  the  coun- 
try was  not  quite  so  familiar  as  that  of  Ramsay's,  had 
learnt  sufficient  from  him  to  decide  at  once  which 
would  be  the  most  favourable  position  for  a  small  and 
resolute  band  to  assume  against  a  large  and  conquer- 
ing army  ;  and  accordingly  disposing  his  troops,  which 
did  not  amount  to  more  than  eight  thousand ;  he  dis- 
patched about  a  thousand  of  them  under  the  command 
of  Ramsay  to  occupy  the  numerous  caves  in  the  south- 
ern banks  of  the  Eske,  whence  he  was  to  issue  in  va- 
rious divisions  and  with  shouts,  oiithe  first  appearance 
of  any  confusion  in  the  enemy's  ranks/'^^ 

Ruthven,  meanwhile,  went  for  a  few  minutes  into 
the  castle  to  embrace  his  niece,  and  to  assure  the  vener- 
able Lord  of  Roslyn,  then  almost  a  prisoner  within  his 
walls,  of  the  determination  of  the  commanders  who 
were  his  coadjutors,  either  to  drive  the  Southrons  again 
beyond  the  borders,  or  themselves  to  perish  beneath 
the  waters  of  the  Eske. 

Edwin,  v»ho  with  Grimsby  had  volunteered  the  dan- 
gerous service  of  reconnoitering  the  enemy,  returned 
in  an  hour,  bringing  in  a  straggler  from  the  English 
camp.  When  they  seized  him,  Edwin  promised  him 
his  life  on  condition  that  he  should  tell  them  the 
strength  of  the  advancing  army.  The  terrified  wretch 
did  not  hesitate ;  and  from  him  they  learnt  that  it  was 
commanded  by  Sir  John  Segrave,  and  Ralph  Confrey,  a 
man  v/hom  Edward  had  intended  should  succeed  the 
detesuble  Cressingham  as  treasurer  of  Scotland  ;  and 
that  deeming  the  country  entirely  subdued  by  the  is- 
sue of  the  two  last  battles  against  the  black  and  red 
Cummins,  (''Hhe  English  commanders  were  laying 
schemes  for  a  general  plundering;  and  to  sweep  the 
land  at  once,  Segrave  had  divided  his  army  into  three 
divisions,  which  on  their  arrival  at  some  certain  spot, 
where  to  separate,  r.nd  scatter  themselves  over  the 
country  to  gather  in  the  spoil.  To  be  assured  of  this 
information  being  the  truth;  vvbile  Grimsby   remained 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  24i> 

to  guard  the  prisoner,  Edwin  went  alone  into  the  path 
he  was  told  the  Southrons  were-  approaching,  and  from 
Si  height  he  4iscovcred  about  ten  thousand  of  them 
winding  along  the  valley.  With  this  confirmation  of 
the  man's  account,  he  brought  him  to  the  Scottish  lines, 
and  Wallace,  who  well  knew  how  to  reap  advantage 
from  the  errors  of  his  enemies,  being  joined  by  Eraser 
and  the  discomfited  Regent,  made  the  concerted  sig- 
nal toRuth^en. That  nobleman  immediately  point- 
ed out  to  his  men  the  waving  colours  of  the  Southrons, 
as  they  approached  beneath  the  over-hanging  woods 
of  Ilawthorndean.  He  exhorted  them  by  their  fathers, 
wives,  and  children,  to  breast  the  enemy  at  this  spot, 
and  grapple  with  him  till  he  fell — "  Scotland,"  cried^e, 
"  is  lost  or  won  this  day. — You  are  free  men  or  slaves  ; 
your  families  are  your  own,  or  the  property  of  tyrants! 
— Fight  stoutly,  and  God  will  yield  you  an  invisible 
support." 

The  Scots  answered  their  general  by  a  shout,  and 
Galling  on  him  to  lead  them  forward,  Ruthven  placed 
himself  with  the  Regent  andFraserin  the  van,  and  led 
the  charge.  The  Southrons,  little  expecting  an  assault 
from  an  adversary  they  had  so  lately  driven  off  the 
field,  were  taken  by  surprise,  but  they  fought  well; 
and  resolutely  stood  their  ground,  till  Wallace  and 
Bruce,  who  commanded  the  two  flanking  divisions, 
closed  in  upon  them  with  an  impetuosity  that  drove 
Confrey  himself  into  the  river,  where  an  arrow  from 
Sir  Alexander  Ramsay,  who  now  rushed  from  con- 
cealment, finished  his  career,  and  threw  him  a  breath- 
less corse  among  the  plunging  feet  of  his  dismayed 
squadrons.  As  the  ambuscade  of  Ramsay  poured  from 
his  caves,  the  earth  seemed  teeming  with  mailed  war- 
riors ;  and  the  Southrons  seeing  the  surrounding 
heights  and  the  green  defiles  filled  with  the  same  ter- 
rific appearances,  gave  way  on  all  sides,  and  almost  be- 
lieving that  the  wizard  power  of  the  Sage  of  Ercildoun, 
whom  they  knew  was  in  the  castle,  had  conjured  up 
this  host  to  their  destruction,  they  fled  with  precipita- 
tion towards  their  second  division,  which  lay  a  few 
miles  southward.  Thither  the  conquering  squadrons 
of  the  Scots  followed  them.     The  fugitives  leaping 


250  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

the  trenches  oi  the  encampment,  called  aloud  to  theii' 
comrades,    "  Arm  !    arm  I    hell  is   in   league   against 

us  !*' Segrave  Nvas  in  a  moment  at  the  head  of  his 

legions,  and  a  battle  more  desperate  than  the  first  blazed 
over  the  field.  The  flying  troops  of  Confrey  rallying 
around  the  standard  of  their  general  in  chief,  fought 
with  the  spirit  of  revenge ;  and  being  now  a  body  of 
nearly  twenty  thousand  men  against  eight  thousand 
Scots,  the  conflict  became  tremendous,  and  in  several 
points  the  Southrons  gained  so  greatly  the  advantage, 
that  Vv^allace  and  Bruce,  leaving  their  respective  sta- 
tions to  Edv/in  and  the  green  knight,  threw  themselves 
successively  into  those  parts  where  the  enemy  seemed 
to  prevail,  and  by  exhortations,  examples,  and  prowess, 
a  thousand  times  turned  the  fate  of  the  day,  and  ap- 
peared as  they  shot  from  rank  to  rank,  to  be  two  comets 
of  fire  sent  before  the  troops  to  consume  all  who  op- 
posed them.  Segrave  was  taken,  and  forty  brave  Eng^ 
lish  knights  besides.  Tl>e  green  surface  of  the  ground 
was  dyed  red  with  Southron  blood,  and  the  men  were 
on  all  sides  calling  for  quarter,  when  the  cry  of  "  Havoc 
and  St.  George  1"  issued  from  the  adjoining  hill.  A 
band  of  Mid-Lothianers,  who,  for  the  sake  of  plunder, 
had  stolen  into  that  part  of  the  deserted  English  camp 
which  occupied  the  rear  of  the  height,  seeing  from  its 
top  the  advancing  troops  of  the  third  division  of  the 
enemy,  like  guilty  cowards  rushed  down  amongst  their 
comrades,  echoing  the  war  cry  of  England,  and  ex- 
claiming, "  We  are  lost ;  a  host,  reaching  to  the  hori- 
zon, is  just  upon  us  1" — Terror  struck  to  almost  every 
Scottish  heart.  The  Southrone:  who  lately  cried  for 
mercy  leaped  upon  their  feet.  The  fight  recom- 
menced with  redoubled  fury.  Lord  Robert  Neville,  at 
the  head  of  the  new  reinforcement,  charged  into  the 
centre  of  the  Scottish  legions.  The  rescue  of  Segrave 
was  his  object.  Bruce  and  Edwin  threw  them.selves 
into  the  breach,  which  his  impetuous  valour  had  made 
into  that  part  of  their  line,  and  fighting  man  to  man, 
would  have  taken  Neville  also,  had  not  a  follower  of 
that  nobleman,  wielding  a  pondrous  mace,  struck  Bruce 
so  terrible  a  blow,  as  to  fracture  his  helriiet  in  twain, 
and  cast  him  from  his  horse  to  the  ground.     The  fall 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  251 

of  so  active  a  leader  excited  as  much  dismay  in  the 
surrounding  Scots,  as  it  encouraged  the  revivi.ig  spirits 
of  the  enemy.  Edwin's  only  hope  was  now  to  preserve 
"  his  prince  from  being  trampled  on,  and  while  he  fought 
to  that  purpose,  and  afterwards  sent  the  senseless  body 
off  the  field  to  Roslyn  Castle,  Neville  retook  Segrave 
and  the  knights  with  him.  Ruthven  now  contended 
with  a  feeble  arm.  Fatigued  with  the  two  preceding 
conflicts,  covered  with  wounds,  and  perceiving  indeed 
a  host  pouring  upon  them  on  all  sides,  (for  the  whole  of 
Segrave's  original  army  of  thirty  thousand  men,  ex- 
cepting -ft  ose  who  had  fallen  in  the  preceding  engage- 
ment:., vv;-re  now  assailing  them)  the  Scots  exhausted 
and  in  despair  gave  ground ;  and  some  throwing  away 
their  arms  to  fly  the  more  unencumbered,  spread  the 
confusion,  and  by  exposing  themselves  panic-struck  to 
the  swords  of  their  enemies,  occasioned  so  general  a 
havoc,  that  the  day  must  have  ended  in  the  universal 
destruction  of  every  Scot  in  the  field,  had  not  Wal- 
lace perceived  the  crisis,  and  that  as  Guy  de  Longue- 
ville,  he  shed  his  blood  in  vain.  In  vain  his  terrified 
countrymen  saw  him  rush  into  the  thickest  of  the  car- 
nage :  in  vain  he  called  to  them  by  all  that  was  sacred 
to  man  to  stand  to  the  last.  He  was  a  foreigner,  and 
they  had  no  confidence  in  his  exhortations,  death  was 
before  them,  and  they  turned  to  fly.  The  fate  of  his 
country  hung  on  an  instant.  The  last  rays  of  the  set- 
ting sun  shone  full  on  the  rocky  promontory  of  the  hill 
which  projected  over  the  field  of  combat.  He  took  his 
resolution,  and  spurring  his  steed  up  the  steep  ascent, 
stood  on  the  summit  where  he  would  be  seen  by  the 
whole  army,  and  taking  off  his  helmet  he  wavec^  it  in 
the  air  with  a  shout,  and  having  drawn  all  eyes  upon 
him  suddenly  exclaimed — "  Scots  !  you  have  this  day- 
vanquished  the  Southrons  twice!  If  you  be  men,  re- 
member Cambuskenneth  and  follow  William  Wallace 
to  a  third  victory."  Tffe  cry  which  issued  from  the 
amazed  troops  was  that  of  a  people  who  beheld  the  an- 
gel of  their  deliverance.  "  Wallace  1"  was  the  charge 
word  of  every  heart.  The  hero's  courage  seemed  in- 
stantaneously diffused  through  every  breast,  and  with 
braced  arms  and  determined  spirits  forming  at  once  in- 


352  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

to  the  phalanx  his  thundering  voice  dictated,  the 
Southrons  again  felt  the  weight  of  the  Scottish  steel ; 
and  a  battle  ensued  which  made  the  bright  Eske  run 
purple  to  the  sea,  and  covered  the  pastoral  glades  of 
Hawthorndean  with  the  bodies  of  their  invaders. 

Sir  John  Segrave  and  Neville  were  both  taken. 
And  ere  night  closed  in  upon  the  carnage  Wallace 
granted  quarter  to  those  v/ho  sued  for  it,  and  receiving 
their  arms,  left  them  to  repose  in  their  before  depopu- 
lated camp. 


CHAP.  XXIII. 

\T  ALLACE  having  planted  Eraser  and  Ramsay  with 
an  adequate  force  in  charge  of  the  prisoners,  went  to' 
the  tent  of  the  two  Southron  commanders  to  pay  them 
the  courtesy  due  to  their  bravery  and  rank  before  he  re- 
tired with  his  victorious  followers  tov/ards  Roslyn  Cas- 
tle. He  ejitered  alone,  and  at  sight  of  the  warrior  who 
had  given  them  so  signal  a  defeat  the  generals  rose. 
Neville  who  had  received  a  slight  wound  in  one  of  his 
arms,  stretched  out  the  other  to  Wallace  in  answer  to 
a  compliment  which  that  chieftain  paid  to  his  military 
conduct.  "  Sir  William  Wallace,"  said  he,  "that you 
were  obliged  to  declare  a  name  so  deservedly  renowned 
before  the  troops  I  led  could  be  made  to  relinquish  one 
step  of  their  hard-earned  advantage,  was  an  acknow- 
ledgment in  my  favour  almost  equivalent  to  a  victory." 
Sir  John  Segi'ave,  who  stood  leaning  on  his  sword 
with  a  disturbed  countenance,  interrupted  him  :  "  The 
fate  of  this  day  cannot  be  attributed  to  any  earthly  name 
or  hand.  I  believe  my  sovereign  will  allow  the  zeal 
with  which  I  have  ever  served  him,  and  yet  thirty 
thousand  as  brave  men  as  ever  crossed  the  marches, 
have  faiicn  before  a  handlul  of  Scots.  Three  victo- 
ries won  over  Edward's  troops  in  one  day,  are  not  events 
of  a  common  nature.  God  alone  has  been  our  van- 
quisher." "  I  acknowledge  it,"  cried  Wallace,  "  and 
that  he  is  on  the  side  of  justice  let  the  return  of  St. 
Matthias's  day  ever  remind  your  countrymen  1" 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  253 

Segrave,  when  he  gave  the  victory  to  the  Lord  of 
Hosts,  did  it  more  from  jealousy  of  what  might  be 
Edward's  opinion  of  his  conduct  when  compared  with 
Neville's,  than  from  any  intention  to  imply  that  the 
cause  of  Scotland  was  justly  heaven-defended.  Such 
are  the  impious  inconsistencies  of  unprincipled  men  I 
He  frowned  at  the  reply  of  Wallace,  and  turned  gloomi- 
ly away.  Neville  returned  a  respectful  answer,  and 
their  conqueror  soon  after  left  them. 

Edwin,  with  the  Knight  of  the  Green  Plume,  who  had 
indeed  approved  his  valour  by  many  a  brave  deed  per- 
formed at  his  commander's  side,  awaited  his  return 
from  the  tent.  Rutliven  came  up  at  the  instant  that 
Wallace  joined  them,  and  he  heard  from  him  that 
Bruce  was  safe  under  the  care  of  the  Sage  of  Ercildoun, 
and  that  the  Regent,  who  had  been  wounded  in  the  be- 
ginning of  the  day,  was  also  in  Roslyn  Castle.  All 
other  of  the  survivors  who  had  suffered  in  these  three 
desperate  battles  were  collected  from  amongst  the 
slain  and  carried  by  Wallace's  orders  into  the  neigh- 
bouring castles  of  Hawthorndean,  Brunston,  and  Dal- 
keith. The  rest  of  the  soldiers  were  ordered  to  repose 
themselves  on  their  arms.  These  duties  performed, 
Wallace  thought  of  satisfying  the  anxieties  of  friend- 
ship as  well  as  loyalty,  and  of  going  to  see  how  Bruce 
fared. 

The  moon  shone  brightly  as  the  party  rode  forward. 
The  river  rushing  along  its  shelving  bed  glittered  in 
her  beams,  and  pouring  over  the  shattered  fragments  of 
many  a  time-precipitated  cliff,  fled  in  hoarse  murmurs 
from  the  perpendicular  sides  of  the  blood-stained 
heights  which  imprisoned  its  struggling  waters.  As 
Wallace  ascended  the  steep  acclivity  on  which  Roslyn 
Castle  stands,  and  in  crossing  the  draw -bridge  which  di- 
vides its  rocky  peninsula  from  the  main  land,  he  looked 
around  and  sighed.  The  scene  reminded  him  of  Ellers- 
lie.  A  deep  shadow  lay  on  the  woods  beneath  ;  and  the 
pensile  branches  of  the  now  leafless  trees  hanging 
down  to  meet  the  flood,  seemed  mourning  the  deaths 
which  now  polluted  its  stream.  The  water  lay  in  pro- 
found repobc  at  the  base  of  these  beautiful  craigs,  as  if 

VOL.    II.  Y 


254  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

peace  longed  to  become  an  inhabitant  of  so  lovely  a 
scene. 

At  the  gate  of  the  castle  its  aged  master  the  Lord 
Sinclair  met  Wallace  to  bid  him  welcome.  "  Blessed 
be  the  saint  of  this  day/'  exclaimed  he,  "  for  thus  bring- 
ing our  best  defender,  even  as  by  a  miracle,  to  snatch 
us  as  a  brand  from  the  fire  I  My  gates,  like  my  heart, 
open  to  receive  the  true  Regent  of  Scotland."  "  I  have 
only  done  a  Scotchman's  duty,  venerable  Sinclair,"  i;e- 
plied  Wallace,  as  he  entered  the  house,  "and  must 
Dot  arrogate  a  title  to  myself  which  heaven  has  transfer- 
red to  other  hands."  "  Not  heaven,  but  the  base  envy 
of  man,'*  replied  the  old  chieftain.  "  It  was  rebellion 
against  the  supreme  wish  of  the  nation,  that  invested 
the  black  Cummin  with  the  regency;  and  some  infatu- 
ation has  bestowed  the  same  title  on  his  brother. 
What  did  he  not  lose  till  you,  Scotland's  true  champion, 
re-appeared  to  rescue  he*;-  again  from  slavery  ?"  "  The 
present  Lord  Badenoch  is  an  honest  and  a  brave  man," 
replied  Wallace  ;  "  and  as  I  obey  the  power  which 
^^ave  him  his  authority,  I  am  ready,  by  fidelity  to  him, 
to  serve  Scotland  with  as  vigorous  a  zeal  as  ever  ;  so,  no- 
ble Sinclair,  wlien  our  rulers  cast  not  trammels  on  our 
virtues,  let  us  obey  them  as  the  vicegerents  of  heaven." 

Wallace  then  asked  to  be  conducted  to  his  wounded 
friend  Sir  Thomas  de  Longiveviiie,  (for  Sinclair  was  ig- 
Tiorant  of  the  real  rank  of  his  guest,)  and  his  rejoicing 
host,  eager  to  oblige  him,  immediately  led  him  through 
a  gallery  and  opening  the  door  of  an  apartment  discover- 
ed Bruce  lying  extended  on  a  couch,  and  an  old  man, 
vhose  silver  beard  and  sv/eeping  robes  announced  to  be 
■he  Sage  of  Ercikloun,  bathing  his  head  with  balsams. 
A  young  creature,  beautiful  as  the  creation  of  genius, 
hung  over  the  prostrate  chief  She  held  a  golden  cas- 
l-.et  in  her  hancl,  out  of  which  the,  sage  drew  the  unc- 
ions  he  applied.  And  Bruce  himself,  as  he  lay  under 
ihe  healing  ministration,  never  withdrew  his  eyes  from 
the  angelic  being  which  seemed  to  hover  near  him. 
At  the  sound  of  Wallace's  voice,  who  spoke  in  a  low 
tone  to  Ruthvcn  as  he  entered  the  chamber, the  wound- 
ed prince  foe  a  moment  forgot  both  his  pain  and  admi- 
lation  of  female  loveliness,  and  starting  on  his  arm 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  255 

stretched  out  his  hand  to  his  friend, — but  he  as  instant- 
ly fell  back  again.  Wallace  hastened  forward  with  an 
agony  of  fear  that  perhaps  Bruce  was  in  greater  danger 
than  he  had  believed.  He  knelt  down  by  him.  Bruce 
recovered  a  little  from  the  swoon  into  which  the  sud- 
denness of  his  attempt  to  rise  had  occasioned.  Feel- 
ing a  hand  grasping  his,  he  guessed  to  whom  it  be- 
longed, and  gently  pressing  it,  smiled;  and  in  a  mo- 
ment  afterwards  opening  his  eyes,  in  a  low  voice  arti- 
culated'—" My  dear  Wallace  you  are  victorious  I" 
"  Completely  so,  my  prince  and  king,"  returned  he  in 
the  same  tone ;  "  ail  is  now  plain  before  you ;  speak 
but  the  word  and  render  Scotland  happy  1"  "Not  yet, 
O  !  not  yet,"  whispered  he.  "  My  more  than  brother, 
allow  Bruce  to  be  himself  again  before  l^e  is  known  iu 
the  land  of  his  fathers!  I  have  but  yet  began  my  proba- 
tiotti  Not  a  Southron  Tnust  taint  our  native  lands  when 
my  name  is  proclaimed  in  Scotland." 

Wallace  saAv  that  his  prince  was  not  in  a  state  to  bear 
farther  argument ;  and  as  all  had  retired  far  from  the 
couch  when  he  approached  it,  in  gratitude  for  this  pro- 
priety (for  it  had  left  him  and  his  friend  free  to  con- 
verse unobserved,)  he  turned  tov/ards  the  other  inmates 
of  the  chamber.  The  sage  advanced  to  him;  and  re- 
cognising in  his  now  manly  form  the  fine  youth  he  had 
seen  with  Sir  Ronald  Crawford  at  the  claiming  of  the 
crown ;  he  saluted  him  with  a  paternal  aftection  which 
tempered  Caq  sublime  feelings  with  which  he  approach- 
ed the  resistless  champion  of  his  country  :  and  then 
beckoning  the  beautiful  girl  who  had  so  riveted  the 
attention  of  Bruce,  she  drew  near  the  sage.  He  took 
iier  hand:  "Sir  William  Wallace,"  said  he,  "this 
sweet  child  is  a  daughter  of  the  brave  Mar  who  died  in 
the  field  of  glory  on  the  Carron. — Her  grandfather  fell 
a  few  weeks  ago,  defending  his  castle  ;  and  I  am  almost 
all  that  is  left  to  her."  Isabella,  for  it  was  she,  covered 
her  face  to  conceal  her  emotions.  "  Dear  lady,"  said 
Wallace,  "these  venerable  heroes  were  both  known  and 
beloved  by  me.  And  now  that  heaven  has  resumed 
them  to  itself,  as  the  last  act  of  friendship  that  I  am 
.  perhaps  fated  to  pay  their  offspring,  I  shall  convey  you 
to  a  sister  whose  matchless  heart  yearns  to  receive  so 
dear  a  consolation." 


256  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

To  disengage  Isabella's  thoughts  from  the  afflicting 
remembrances  which  were  bathing  her  cheeks  with 
tears,  Ercildoun  put  a  cup  of  the  mingled  juice  of 
herbs  into  her  hand  and  commissioned  her  to  give  it  to 
their  invalid.  Wallace  now  learnt  that  his  friend's 
principal  wound  was  in  the  head,  accompanied  by  so 
severe  a  concussion  of  the  brain,  that  it  would  be  many- 
days  before  he  could  remove  from  off  his  bed  without 
danger.  Anxious  to  release  him  from  even  the 
scarcely-breathed  whispers  of  his  raartial  companions 
who  stood  at  some  distance  from  his  couch,  Wallace 
immediately  proposed  leaving  him  to  repose ;  and 
beckoning  Edwin,  who  was  bending  in  affectionate  si- 
lence over  his  prince,  he  withdrew;  leaving  none 
others  than  the  good  sage  and  the  tender  Isabella, 
whose  soft  attentions  seemed  to  beguile  Bruce  of  every 
pain,  to  administer  to  his  comfort. 

Wallace  then  accompanied  Sinclair  to  the  apartment 
of  the  Regent ;  and  finding  him  in  a  fair  way  of  reco- 
very, after  sitting  an  hour  with  him  he  bade  his  friends 
adieu  for  the  night,  and  retired  to  his  own  repose. 

Next  morning  he  v/as  aroused  at  day-break  by  the 
abrupt  entrance  of  Andrew  Lord  Bothwell  into  his 
chamber.  The  well-known  sounds  of  his  voice  made 
Wallace  start  from  his  pillow  and  extend  his  arms  to 
receive  him. — "  Murray  !  my  brave,  invaluable  Mur- 
ray !"  cried  he,  "  thou  art  welcome  once  more  to  the 
side  of  thy  brother  in  arms.  Thee  and  thir/'j  must  ever 
be  first  in  my  heart !''  The  young  Lord  Bothwell  for 
some  time  returned  his  warm  embrace  in  eloquent  si- 
lence ;  at  last,  sitthig  down  by  Wallace's  bed,  as  he 
grasped  his  hand  he  said,  pressing  it  to  his  breast,  "I 
feel  a  happiness  here,  which  I  have  never  known  since 
the  day  of  Falkirk.  You  quitted  us,  Wallace,  and  ail 
good  seemed  gone  v/ith  you,  or  buried  in  my  father's 
grave.  But  you  return  !  you  bri-ng  conquest  and  peace 
with  you  ;  you  restore  our  Helen  to  her  family  ;  you 
bless  us  with  yourself! — And  shall  you  not  again  see 
the  gay  Andrew  Murray?  It  must  be  so,  my  friend, 
melancholy  is  not  my  climate  ;  and  I  shall  now  live  in 
your  beams." — — "  Dear  IViurray  !"  returned  Wallace, 
''  lliis  generous  enthusiasm  can  only  be  equalled  by  my 


THE    SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  257 

joy  in  all  that  makes  you  and  Scotland  happy."  He 
then  proceeded  to  impart  to  him,  in  confidence,  all  tha'. 
related  to  Bruce  ;  and  to  describe  the  minutise  of  those 
plans  for  his  establishment,  which  ha.d  only  been 
hinted  in  his  letters  from  France.  Bothwell  entered 
with  ardour  into  these  loyal  designs,  and  regretted  that 
the  difficulty  he  found  in  persuading  the  Lanarkers  to 
follow  him  to  any  field  where  they  did  not  expect  to  find 
their  beloved  Wallace,  had  deprived  him  of  the  partici- 
pation iie  wished  in  the  late  danger  and  new  glory  of 
his  friend.  "  To  compensate  for  that  privation,"  re- 
plied Wallace,  "  while  our  prince  is  disabled  from  in 
person  pursuing  his  victories,  we  must  not  allow  our 
present  advantages  to  lose  their  expected  effects.  You 
shall  accompany  me  through  the  Lowlands,  where  we 
must  recover  the  places  which  the  ill-fortune  of  James 
Cummin  has  lost." 

Murray  gladly  embraced  this  opportunity  of  again 
sharing  the  field  with  Wallace.  And  when  the  chiefs 
JoinedBruce,  (where  Douglas  was  already  seated  by  his 
couch,)  after  Bothwell  was  presented  to  his  young  sove- 
reign, they  entered  into  discourse  relative  to  their  fu- 
ture different  posts  of  duty.  Wallace  suggested  to 
his  royal  friend  that,  as  his  restoration  to  heaUh  could 
not  be  so  speedy  as  the  cause  required,  it  would  be  ne- 
cessary not  to  await  the  event,  but  immediately  begin 
the  recovery  of  the  border  counties  before  Edward 
could  reinforce  their  Southron  garrisons.  Bruce  sigh- 
ed, but  with  a  generous  glow  suffusing  his  pale  face,  he 
said — "  Go,  my  friend  !  Bless  Scotland  what  way  you 
will,  and  let  my  ready  acquiescence  convince  future 
ages  that  I  love  my  country  beyond  my  own  fame  :  for 
its  sake  I  relioquish  to  you  the  whole  glory  of  deliver- 
ing it  out  of  the  hands  of  the  tyrant  who  has  so  long 
usurped  my  rights.  Men  may  say  when  they  hear  this, 
that  I  do  not  merit  the  crov/n  you  will  put  iTpon  my 
head ;  that  I  have  lain  on  a  couch  while  you  fought  for 
me  ;  but  I  will  bear  all  obloquy,  rather  than  deserve  its 
slightest  charge  by  withholding  you  an  hour  from  the 

great  work  of  Scotland's  peace." "  It  is  not  for  the 

breath  of  men,  my  dear  prince,"  returned  Wallace, 
"  that  either  you  or  I  act.     It  is  sufficient  for  us  that 

Y  2 


258  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

we  effect  their  good  ;  and  whether  the  agent  be  one  or 
the  other,  the  end  is  the  same.  Our  deeds  and  inten- 
tions have  one  great  judge  ;  and  he  ViiW  award  the 
only  true  glory." 

Such  were  the  principles  which  filled  the  hearts  of 
these  two  friends,  worthy  of  each  other  and  alike  hon- 
ourable to  the  country  that  gave  them  birth. 

Though  the  wounded  John  Cummin  remained  pos~ 
sessed  of  the  title  of  Regent,  Wallace  was  virtually  en- 
dowed with  the  authority.  Whatever  he  suggested 
was  acted  upon  as  by  a  decree  : — all  eyes  looked  up  to 
him  &.S  to  the  cynosure  by  which  every  order  of  men  in 
Scotland  were  to  shape  their  course.  The  jealousies 
which  had  driven  him  from  his  former  supreme  seat, 
seemed  to  have  died  wath  their  prime  instigator  the 
late  regent ;  and  no  chief  of  any  consequence,  excep- 
ting Soulis  mK\  Athol,  M'ho  retired  in  disgusts  to  their 
different  castles,  breathed  a  word  in  opposition  to  the 
general  gratitude. 

Wallace,  having  sent  back  his  prisoners  to  their  coun- 
try on  the  same  terms  which  he  formerly  dictated,  com- 
menced his  march  farther  into  the  Lowlands,  where  the 
fame  of  his  victories  seconded  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
people  and  the  determination  of  his  troops,  soon  made 
him  master  of  all  the  fortresses.  His  own  valiant  band, 
headed  by  Scrymgeour,  had  recognised  their  beloved 
leader  with  rapturous  joy,  and  followed  his  standard 
with  a  zeal  that  rendered  each  individual  a  host  in  him- 
self. Hardly  three  weeks  were  consumed  in  these  con- 
quests, and  not  a  Tood  of  land  remained  south  of  the 
Tay  in  the  possession  of  England,  excepting  Berwick. 
Before  that  often  disputed  strong  hold,  Wallace  drew 
up  his  forces 'to  commence  a  regular  siege:  and  the 
governor,  intimidated  by  the  powerful  works  which  he 
saw  the  Scottish  chief  forming  against  the  town,  dis- 
patched a  ntessenger  to  Edward  with  the  tidings;  and 
to  tell  him,  that  if  he  would  not  grant  the  peace  for 
which  the  Scots  fought,  or  immediately  send  succors  to 
Berwick,  he  would  find  it  necessary  to  begin  the  con- 
£^uest  of  the  kingdom  anew. 


I 


A 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  259 


CHAP.  XXIV. 

W  HILE  Wallace,  accompanied  by  his  brave  friends, 
was  thus  carrying  all  before  him  from  the  Grampian  to 
the  Cheviot  hills,  Bruce  was  rapidly  recovering.  His 
eager  wishes  seemed  to  heal  his  wounds;  and  on  the 
tenth  day  after  the  departure  of  Wallace,  he  left  that 
couch  which  had  been  beguiled  of  its  irksomeness  by 
the  smiling  attentions  of  the  tender  Isabella.  The  ensu- 
ing sabbath  beheld  him  restored  to  full  vigour;  and  ha- 
ving imparted  his  intentions  to  the  Lords  Ruthven  and 
Douglas,  who  were  both  with  him,  the  next  morning 
he  joyfully  buckled  on  his  armour.  Isabella,  when  she 
saw  him  thus  clad,  started,  and  the  roses  left  her  cheek. 
"  I  am  armed  to  be  your  guide  to  Hunting-tower," 
said  he,  with  a  look  that  shewed  he  read  her  thoughts. 
He  then  called  for  pen  and  ink  to  write  to  Wallace. 
The  now  re-assured  Isabella,  rejoicing  in  the  glad  beams 
of  his  br'fjhtcning  eyes,  held  the  standish.  As  he  dip- 
ped his  pen,  he  looked  up  at  her  with  smiles  and  a  grate- 
ful tenderness  that  thrilled  to  her  soul,  and  made  her 
bend  her  blushing  face  to  hide  emotions  which  whispered 
bliss  in  every  beat  of  her  happy  heart.  Thus,  with  a  spirit 
which  wrapt  him  in  felicity;  for  victory  hailed  him  from 
without,  and  love  seemed  to  woo  him  to  the  dearest 
transports  within;  he  wrote  the  following  letter  to 
Wallace : 

"  I  am  now  well,  my  best  friend!  This  day  I  attend 
my  lovely  nurse,  with  her  venerable  guardian,  to  Hun- 
ting-tower. Eastward  of  Perth  almost  every  castle  of 
consequence  is  yet  filled  by  the  Southrons,  whom  the 
folly  of  James  Cummin  allowed  to  re-occupy  the  places 
whence  you  had  so  lately  driven  them.  I  go  to  root 
them  out,  to  emulate  in  the  north  what  you  are  now  do- 
ing in  the  south  !  You  shall  see  me  again  when  the 
banks  of  the  Spey  are  as  free  as  you  have  made  the  Forth. 
In  all  this  I  am  yet  Thomas  de  Longueville.  Isabella, 
the  sweet  soother  of  my  hours,  knows  me  as  no  other, 
for  would  she  not  despise  the  unfamed  Bruce  ?  To  de- 
serve and  win  her  love  as  De  Longueville,  and  to  marry 
her  as  King  of  Scotland,  is  the  fond  hope  of  your  friend 
and  brother  Robert " 


260  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS 

'"P.  S.     I  shall  send  you  dispatches  of  my  procee- 
dings.— '* 

Wallace  had  just  made  a  successful  attack  upon  the 
outworks  of  Berwick  when  this  letter  was  put  into  his 
hand.  He  was  surrounded  hy  his  chiefta'ns,  and  having 
lead  it, he  informed  them  that  Sir  Thomas  de  Longue^* 
ville  was  going  to  Hunting-tower,  whence  he  intended 
to  make  excursions  to  rid  the  neighbouring  castles  of 
the  enemy. 

"  The  hopes  of  his  enterprising  spirit,"  continued 
Wallace,  "  are  so  seconded  by  his  determination  that 
what  he  promises  he  will  perform,  and  we  may  soon  ex- 
pect to  hear  that  we  have  no  enemies  in  the  Highlands." 

But  in  this  he  was  disappointed.  Day  after  day  pas- 
sed away,  and  ho  tidings  arrived  from  the  north.  Wal- 
lace became  anxious,  and  Bothwell  and  Edwin  began  to 
share  his  uneasiness.  Continued  successes  against 
Berwick  had  assured  him  of  a  speedy  surrender,  when 
a  Southron  reinforcement  being  throv/n  in  by  sea  the 
confidence  of  the  garrison  was  re-excited,  and  the  ram- 
parts  being  doubly  manned,  Wallace  saw  the  only  alter- 
native was  to  attempt  the  possession  of  their  ships  and 
turn  the  siege  into  a  blockade.  Should  Bruce  be  pros- 
perous in  the  Highlands,  he  would  have  full  leisure  to 
await  the  fall  of  Berwick  upon  this  plan,  and  much  blood 
might  be  spared.  Intent  and  execution  were  twin-born 
in  the  breast  of  Wallace.  By  a  masterly  stroke  he  ef- 
fected his  design  on  the  shipping;  and  having  closed 
'he  Southrons  within  their  v/alls,  he  dispatched  Lord 
Bothwell  to  Hunting-tower  to  see  Ruthven,  to  learn  the 
state  of  military  operations  there,  and  above  all,  he  ho- 
ped to  bring  back  good  tidings  of  the  prince. 

On  the  evening  of  the  very  day  in  vr  hich  Murray  left 
Berwick  a  desperate  sally  was  made  by  the  garrison, 
but  they  were  beaten  back  v/ith  great  slaughter,  and 
with  such  effect  that  Wallace  gained  possession  of 
one  of  their  most  commanding  towers.  The  con- 
test did  not  end  till  night;  and  after  passing  some  time 
in  the  council-tent  listening  to  the  suggestions  of  his 
friends  relative  to  the  use  that  might  be  made  of  the 
new  acqu-isition,  he  retired  to  his  own  quarters  at  a 
late   hour.     At  these  momentous   periods   he   never 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  261 

seemed  to  need  sleep  :  and  seated  at  his  table,  settling 
the  dispositions  for  the  succeeding  day,  he  marked  not 
the  time  till  the  flame  of  his  exhausted  lamp  expired 
in  the  socket. — He  replenished  it ;  and  had  again  re- 
signed his  military  labours,  ^vhen  the  curtain  which 
covered  the  door  of  his  tent  was  drawn  aside  and  an 
armed  man  entered.  Wallace  looked  up;  and  seeing 
that  it  was  the  knight  of  the  green  plume,  asked  if 
any  thing  had  occurred  from  the  town. 
.  "  Nothing,"  replied  the  knight,  in  an  agitated  voice, 
and  seating  himself  beside  Wallace.  "Any  evil  tidings 
from  my  friends  in  Perthshire  ?"  demanded  Wallace, 
who  now  hardly  doubted  that  ill  news  had  arrived  of 
Bruce.  "  None,"  was  the  knight's  reply,  "  but  I  aH^. 
come  to  fulfil  my  promise  to  you  ;  to  unite  myself  for 
ever,  heart  and  soul,  to  your  destiny;  or  you  behold 
me  this  night  for  the  last  time."  Wallace,  surprised 
at  this  address  and  at  the  emotion  which  shook  the 
frame  of  the  unknown  warrior,  answered  him  with  ex- 
pressions cf  esteem,  and  added  :  "  If  it  depends  on  me 
to  unite  so  brave  a  man  to  my  friendship  for  ever,  only 
speak  the  word,  declare  your  name,  and  I  am  ready  to 
seal  the  compact."  "  My  name,"  returned  the  knight, 
**  will  indeed  put  these  protestations  to  the  proof,  I 
have  fought  by  your  side,  Sir  William  Wallace.  I 
would  have  died  at  any  moment  to  have  spared  that 
breast  a  wound;  and  yet  I  dread  to  raise  this  visor,  to 
shev/  you  who  I  am.  A  look  will  make  me  live,  or 
blast  me."  "  Your  language  confounds  me,  noble 
knight,"  replied  Wallace,  "  I  know  of  no  man  living, 
saving  either  of  the  base  violators  of  Lady  Helen  Mar's 
liberty,  who  need  trem.ble  before  my  eyes.  It  is  not 
possible  that  either  of  these  men  is  before  me;  and 
whoever  you  are,  whatever  you  may  have  been,  brave 
chieftain,  your  deeds  have  proved  you  worthy  of  a  sol- 
dier's friendship,  and  I  pledge  you  mine." 

The  knight  was  silent. — He  took  Wallace's  hand — ■ 
he  grasped  it; — the  arms  that  held  it  did  indeed  trem- 
ble. W'allace  again  spoke. — "  What  is  the  meaning  of 
this?  I  am  no  tyrant,  no  monarch,  to  excite  these 
dreads.  I  have  a  power  to  benefit,  but  none  to  injure.'* 
"  To  benefit  and  to  injure  !"  cried  the  knight  in  a  tran- 


552  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

sport  of  emotion  ;  "  you  have  my  life  in  your  hands.  Oh  t 
grant  it,  as  you  value  your  ov/n  happiness  and  honour  ! 
Look  on  me,  and  say  whether  I  am  to  live  or  die/' 
As  the  warrior  spoke,  he  cast  himself  impetuously  on    ; 
his  knees,  and  threw  open  his  visor.     Wallace  saw  a    j 
fine  but  flushed  face. — It  was  much  overshadowed  by  ;J 
the  helmet.     "  My  brave  friend,'*  said  he,  attempting  .1 
^to  raise   him   by  the    hand  which  clasped  his;  "your   j 
words  are  mysteries  to  me;  and  so   little  right  can  I   i 
have  to  the  power  you  ascribe  to  me,  that,  although  it  i 
seems  to  me  as  if  I  had  seen  your  features  before,  yet  ,, 

' "  "  You  forget  me,"  cried  the  knight  starting  on  r 

his  feet  and  throwing  off  his  helmet  to  the  ground : 
"  Again  look  on  this  face,  and  stab  me  at  once  by  a 
second  declaration  that  I  am  remembered  no  more  V* 

The  countenance  of  Wallace  now  shewed  that  he 
too  well  remembered  it.  He  was  pale  and  aghast. 
"  Lady  Mar,"  cried  he,  "not  expecting  to  see  you.  un- 
der a  warrior's  casque,  you  will  pardon  me  that  when 
so  apparelled  I  should  not  immediately  recognise  the 
widow  of  my  friend."  "  Ingrate  !  ingrate  1"  cried  she, 
turning  pale  as  himself;  "  and  is  it  thus  you  answer  the 
sacrifices  I  have  made  for  you  ?  For  you  I  have  com- 
mitted an  outrage  on  my  nature  ;  I  have  put  on  me  this 
abhorrent  steel ;  I  have  braved  the  dangers  of  many  a 
hard-fought  day  ; — and  all  to  guard  your  life  ;  to  con- 
vince you  of  a  love  unexampled  in  woman  !  and  thus 
you  recognise  her  who  has  risked  honour  and  life  for 
you,  with  coldness  and  reproach  I*'  "  With  neither, 
Lady  Mar,"  returned  he,  "  I  am  grateful  for  the  ge- 
nerous motives  of  your  conduct ;  but  for  the  sake  of 
the  fair  fame  you  confess  you  have  endangered  ;  in 
respect  to  the  memory  of  him  whose  name  you  bear ; 
I  cannot  but  v/ish  that  so  liazardous  an  instance  of  in- 
terest in  me  had  been  left  undone."  "  If  that  is  all," 
returned  Lady  Mar,  drawing  towards  him ;  "  it  is  in 
your  power  to  ward  from  me  every  stigma!  Who  will 
dare  to  cast  one  reflection  on  my  fair  fame  when  you 
bear  testimony  to  my  purity  ?  Who  will  asperse  the  i 
name  of  Mar,  when  you  displace  it  with  that  of  Wal- 
lace ?  Make  me  yours,  dearest  of  men,"  cried  she  I 
clasping  his  hands,  "  and  you  will  receive  one  to  your 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  263 

heart  who  never  knew  how  to  love  before  ;  who  will  be 
to  you  what  woman  never  yet  was  ;  and  who  will  bring 
you  territories,,  if  not  more,  yet  nearly  equal  to  those 
of  the  King  of  Scotland.  My  father,  who  held  them 
during  Lord  Mar's  life,  is  no  more  ;  and  now.  Countess 
of  Strathearn  and  Princess  of  the  Orkneys,  I  have  it  in 
my  power  to  bring  a  sovereignty  to  your  head  and  the 
fondest  of  wives  to  your  bosom."  As  she  vehemently 
spoke,  and  clung  to  Wallace  as  if  she  had  already  a 
right  to  seek  comfort  within  his  arms,  her  tears  and 
violent  agitation  so  disconcerted  him  that  for  a  few 
moments  he  could  not  find  a  reply.  This  short  endur- 
ance of  her  passion  aroused  her  almost  drooping  hopes; 
and  intoxicated  with  so  rapturous  an  illusion  she  threw 
off  the  little  restraint  in  which  her  awe  of  Wallace's 
coldness  had  confined  her,  and  flinging  herself  on  his 
breast,  poured  forth  all  her  love  and  fond  ambitions  for 
him.  In  vain  he  attempted  to  interrupt  her,  to  raise 
her  with  gentleness  from  her  indecorous  situation  ;  she 
had  no  perception  but  for  the  idea  which  had  now  taken 
possession  of  her  heart,  and  whispering  to  him  softly, 
she  said,  "Be  but  my  husband,  Wallace,  and  all  rights 
shall  perish  before  my  love  and  your  aggrandizement. 
In  these  arms  you  shall  bless  the  day  you  first  saw 
Joanna  Strathearn  1" 

The  prov/ess  of  the  knight  of  the  green  plume,  the 
respect  he  owed  to  the  widow  of  the  Earl  of  Mar,  the 
tenderness  he  ever  felt  for  all  of  woman-kind,  were  all 
forgotten  in  the  disgusting  blandishments  of  this  deter- 
mined wanton.  She  wooed  to  be  his  wife;  but  not 
with  the  chaste  appeal  of  the  widow  of  Mahlon.  "  Let 
me  find  favour  in  thy  sight,  for' thou  hast  comforted 
me!"  said  the  fair  Moabitess,  who  in  a  strange  land 
cast  herself  at  the  feet  of  her  deceased  husband's 
friend  ;  "  Spread  thy  garment  over  me,  and  let  me  be 
thy  wife  !'*  She  was  answered,  "  I  will  do  all  that  thou 
requirest,  for  thou  art  a  virtuous  woman  .'"  But  nei- 
ther the  actions  nor  the  words  of  Lady  Mar  bore  wit- 
ness tiiat  she  deserved  this  appellation.  They  were 
the  dictates  of  &  passion  as  impure  as  it  was  intemper- 
ate. Blinded  by  its  fumes  she  forgot  the  nature  of  the 
iieart  she  sought  to   pervert  to  sympathy  with   hers. 


064  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

She  saw  not  that  every  look  and  movement  on  her  part 
filled  Wallace  with  aversion  ;  and  not  until  he  forcibly 
broke  from  her  did  she  doubt  the  success  of  her  fond 
caresses. 

"  Lady  Mar,"  said  he,  "  I  m^st  repeat  that  I  am  not 
ungrateful  for  the  proofs  of  regard  you  have  bestowed 
on  me ;  but  such  excess  of  attachment  is  lavished  upon 
u  man  that  is  a  bankrupt  in  love.  I  am  cold  as  monu- 
mental marble  to  every  touch  of  that  passion  to  which 
I  was  once  but  too  entirely  devoted.  Bereaved  of  the 
object,  I  am  punished  ;  thus  is  my  heart  doomed  to 
solitude  on  earth,  for  having  made  an  idol  of  the  angel 
that  was  sent  to  cheer  and  guide  me  in  the  path  to 
heaven."  Wallace  said  even  more  than  this.  He  re- 
monstrated with  her  in  the  gentlest  manner,  on  the 
shipv/reck  she  was  making  of  her  own  happiness  in  ad- 
hering thus  tenaciously  to  a  man  who  could  only  re- 
gard her  with  the  general  sentiment  of  esteem.  He 
urged  her  beauty  and  yet  youthful  years.  How  many 
would  be  eager  to  win  her  love  and  to  marry  her  with 
honour;  when,  under  the  circumstances  into  which 
she  had  thrown  herself  with  him,  should  she  persist, 
nothing  could  accrue  but  disappointment  and  disgrace. 
While  he  continued  to  speak  to  her  with  the  tender 
consideration  of  a  brother,  she,  who  knew  no  grada- 
tions in  the  affections  of  the  heart,  doubted  his  words 
and  believed  that  a  latent  fire  glowed  in  his  breast 
which  her  art  might  still  blow  into  a  fiame.  She  threw 
herself  upon  her  knees,  she  wept,  she  implored  his 
pity,  she  wound  her  arms  around  his  and  bathed  his 
hands  with  her  tears  ;  but  still  he  continued  to  urge  her 
by  every  argument  of  female  delicacy  to  relinquish  her 
ill-directed  love,  and  to  return  to  her  domains  before 
her  absence  couid  be  generally  known. — She  looked  up 
to  read  ms  countenance  :  a  friend's  anxiety,  nuy,  au- 
thority, Vr  r  there,  but  no  glow  of  passion  ;  all  was  calm 
and  deter  med.  Her  beauty  tuen  had  been  shewn  to 
a  m.an  wiMiovJt  eyes ;  her  tender  eloquence  poTired  on 
an  ear  that  Wc\s  deaf;  and  her  blan'.tishments  lavished  on 
a  block  of  marble  !  In  a  paroxysm  of  despair  she  dashed 
the  hand  which  she  held  far  from  her,  and  standing 
proudly  on  her  feet — "  Hear  me,  thou  man  of  stone  I" 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  .6^ 

cried  she,  "  and  answer  me  on  your  life  and  iionour, 
for  both  depend  on  your  reply,  Is  Joanna  Strathcarn  to 
be  your  wife  or  not  V 

"  Cease  to  urge  me,  unhappy  lady,"  returned  Wal- 
lace; "on  what  you  already  know  the  decision  of  this 
ever  widowed  heart."  Lady  Mar  looked  siedfastly  at 
him:  "Then  receive  my  last  determuiation  !"  cried 
she,  and  drawing  near  him  with  a  desperate  and  por- 
tentous expression  in  her  countenance,  as  if  she  meant 
to  whisper  in  his  ear,  she  on  a  sudden  plucked  St. 
Louis's  dagger  from  his  girdle  and  struck  it  into  his 
breast.  Before  it  could  penetrate  to  a  mortal  depth  he 
caught  the  hand  which  grasped  the  hilt.  Her  eyes 
glared  with  the  fury  of  a  maniac,  and  with  a  horrid 
laugh  she  exclaimed,  "  I  have  slain  thee,  insolent  tri- 
umpher  in  my  love  and  agonies  ! — Thou  shalt  not  now 
deride  me  in  the  arms  of  thy  minion  :  for  I  know  that 
it  is  not  for  the  dead  Marion  you  liave  trampled  on  my 
heart,  but  for  the  living  Helen  !"  As  she  spoke,  he 
moved  her  hold  from  the  dagger,  and  drew  the  weapon 
from  the  wound.  A  torrent  of  blood  flowed  over  his 
vest  and  stained  the  hand  that  grasped  hers.  She  turned 
of  a  deadly  paleness,  but  a  demoniac  joy  still  gleamed 
in  her  eyes.  "  Lady  Mar,"  cried  he,  "  I  pardon  this 
outrage.  Go  in  peace,  and  I  shall  never  breathe  to  man 
or  woman  the  occurrences  of  this  night.  Only  re- 
member, that  with  regard  to  Lady  Helen,  my  wishes 
are  as  pure  as  her  own  virgin  innocence."  "  So  they 
may  be  now,  vainly-boasting,  immaculate  Wallace  1" 
answered  she,  with  bitter  derision,  "  men  are  saints, 
when  their  passions  are  satisfied.  Think  not  to  impose 
on  her  who  knows  how  this  vestal  Helen  followed  you 
in  page's  attire,  and  without  one  stigma  being  cast  on 
her  maiden  delicacy  !  I  am  not  to  learn  the  days  and 
nights  she  passed  alone  with  you  in  the  woods  of  Nor- 
mandy ! — Did  you  not  follow  her  to  France  ? — Did  you 
not  tear  her  from  the  arms  of  Lord  Aymcr  de  Valence  ? 
Andn&w,  relinquishing  her  yourself,  you  leave  a  dis- 
honoured bride  to  cheat  the  vows  of  some  honester 
man  1 — Wallace,  I  now  know  you:  and  as  I  have  been 
fool  enough  to  love  you  beyond  all  woman's  love,  I 

VOL.    II.  z 


266  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

swear  by  the  powers  "of  heaven  and  hell,  to  make  yoii 
feel  the  weight  of  woman's  hatred  !" 

Her  denunciations  had  no  effect  on  Wallace  :  blither 
slander  against  her  unoffendin*-  daughter-in-law  agita 
ted  him  with  an  indignation  that  almost  dispossessed  hi 
of  himself.     In  few  but  hurried  and  vehement  words, 
he  denied  all  that  she  had  alleged  against  Helen,  and 
appealed  to  the  whole  court  of  France  to  bear  witness 
to  her  spotless  innocence.     Lady  Mar  exulted  in  this 
emoticn,  though  every  sentence,  by  the  interest  it  dis- 
played in  its  object,  seemed  to  establish  the  truth  of  that 
suspicion  which  she  had  only  uttered  as  the  mere  ebul- 
lition of  her  spleen.     Triumphing  in  the  belief  that  he 
had  found  another  as  frail  as  herselfi,  and  yet  maddened 
that  that  other  should  have  been  preferred  before  her, 
her  jealous  pride  took  fresh  flame — "  Swear,"  cried  she, 
^'  till  I  see  the  blood  of  that  false  heart  forced  to  my  feet 
to  ratify  the  oath,  and  still  I  shall  believe  the  base  daugh- 
ter of  Mar  a  wanton.     I  go,  not  to  proclaim  her  dishon- 
our to  the  world,  but  to  deprive  her  of  her  lover ;  to 
yield  the  rebel  Wallace  into  the  hands  of  justice  !  When 
on  the  scaffold,  proud  exulter  in  those   now  detested 
beauties,  remember  that  it  was  Joanna  Strathearn  who 
laid  thy  head  upon  the  block ;  who  consigned   those 
limbs,  of  heaven's  own  statuary,  to  decorate  the  spires  i 
of  Scotland  1  Remember  that  my  curse  pursues  you 
here  and  hereafter  !*'  A  livid  fire  seemed  to  dart  from 
her  eyes ;  her  countenance  was  torn  as  by  some  inter- 
nal nend ;  and  with  the  last  malediction  thundering  from 
lier  tongue  she  darted  from  his  sight. 


CHAP.  XXV. 

J.  HE  next  morning  Wallace  was  recalled  from  the 
confusion  into  which  his  nocturnal  visitor  had  thrown 
his  mind,  by  the  entrance  of  Ker,  who  came  as  usual  with 
the  reports  of  the  night  and  to  reeeive  his  orders  for  the 
day.  In  the  course  of  their  conversation,  Ker  men- 
tioned that  about  three  hours  after  sun-rise  the  knight 
of  the  green  plume  had  left  the  camp  with  his  dispatch- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  ^e: 

;s  for  Stirling.  Wallace  \vas  scarcely  surprised  at  llus 
:eady  falsehood  of  Lady  Mar's;  and  not  intending  to 
Detray  her,  he  merely  said;  "  It  is  well;  and  long  ere 
.10  appears  again,  I  hope  we  shall  have  good  tiding? 
Torn  our  friends  on  the  Tay." 

But  day  after  day  passed,  and, notwithstanding  Both  - 
weirs  embassy,  no  accounts  arrived.— The  Countcst^ 
Liad  left  behind  an  emissary  who  did  as  she  bad  done 
before,  intercept  all  messengers  from  Perthshire. 

The  morning  after  the  night  in  v/hich  she  had  cla:.' 
destinely  stolen  from  Hunting-tower,   she  ordered  th(: 
seneschal  of  that  castle  (her  only  confident  in  this  trans- 
action) to  tell  Lady  Ruthvcn  that  he  had  just  spoken 
with  a  knight  who  came  to  say  that  the  Countess  of 
Sirathcarn  and  Mar  had  commanded  him  to  tell  the  fa- 
mily  that  she  was  gone  on  a  secret  mission  to  Norway, 
and  therefore  desired  her  sister-in-law,  for  the  sake  oi' 
the  cause  most  dear  to  her,  that  neither  slie  nor  any  h 
the  castle  would  inform  Lord  Ruthven  ca-  his  friends  oi 
her  departure  till  she  should  return  ^vith,  ske  hopedj 
happy  news  for  Scotland .     The  man  said,  that  after  de- 
claring this  the   knight  rode   hastily  away.     But  this 
precaution,  which  did  indeed  impose  on  the  innocent 
credulity  of  her  husband's  sister  and  daughter,  failed 
to  satisfy  the   countess  herself.     Fearful  that  Helen 
might  communicate  her  flight  to  Wallace  and  so  ex- 
cite his  suspicion  that  she  was  not  far  from  him,  from 
the  moment  of  her  joining  him  at  Linlithgov/  she  inter- 
cepted every  letter  from  Hunting-tower  ;  and  continu- 
ed to  do  so  after  Bruce  went  to  that  castle,  jealous  of 
what  might  be  said  of  Helen  by  this   Sir  Thomas   de 
Longueville,  in  whom  he  seemed   so  undeservedly  to 
confide.  To  this  end,  all  packets  from  Perthshire  were 
eonveyed  to  her  by  a  spy  she  had  in  the  camp :  and  all 
which  were  sent  thence,  were  stopped  at  Hunting-tov/- 
er  (through  which  channel  they  v/ere   directed  to  go,) 
and  by  the  treacherous  seneschal  throv/n  into  the  flames. 
No  letters  ever  came  from  Helen:  a  few  bore  Lord 
Ruthven's  superscription;  and  all  the  rest  were  addres- 
sed by  Sir  Thomas  de  Longueville  to  Wallace.     She 
broke  the  seals  of  this  correspondence  ;  but  she  looked 
in  vain  on  their  contents.     Bruce  and  his  friend,  as  v^ell 


268  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  f  j 

as  Ruthven,  wrote  in  a  cypher;  and  only  one  passage, 
which  the  former  had  by  chance  written  in  the  common 
character,  could  she  ever  make  out. — It  ran  thus  : 

*'  I  have  just  returned  to  Huntinc^ -tower  after  the 
capture  of  Kinsouns.  Lady  Helen  sits  by  me  on  one 
side,  Isabella  on  the  other.  Isabella  smiles  on  me  like 
a  Hourii.  Helen's  look  is  not  less  gracious,  for  I  tell 
her  I  am  writing  to  Sir  William  Wallace.  She  smiles, 
but  it  is  with  such  a  smile  as  that  with  which  a  saint 
would  relinquish  to  heaven  the  dearest  object  of  its 
love."  "  Helen,"  said  I,  "  what  shall  I  say  from  you  to 
your  friend  V  She  blushed.  "  That  I  pray  for  him." 
"  That  you  think  of  him  ?"  «  That  I  pray  for  him,"  re- 
peated she  more  emphatically ;  "  that  is  the  way  I  al- 
ways think  of  my  preserver."  Her  manner  checked 
me,  my  dear  W^allace ;  but  I  would  give  worlds  that 
you  could  bring  your  heart  to  make  this  sweet  vestal 
smile  as  I  do  her  sister !" 

Lady  Mar  crushed  the  registered  wish,  so  hostile  to 
her  hopes,  in  her  hand  ;  and  though  she  was  never  able 
to  decypher  a  word  more  of  Bruce's  numerous  letters, 
(many  of  which,  could  she  have  read,  contained  com- 
plaints of  that  silence  which  she  had  so  cruelly  occa- 
sioned on  both  sides,)  she  took  and  destroyed  them  all. 

She  had  ever  shunned  the  penetrating  eyes  of  Both- 
well  ;  and  to  have  him  on  the  spot  when  she  should  dis- 
cover herself  to  Wallace,  she  thought  would  only  invite 
his  discomfiture  ;  and  therefore,  in  affecting  to  share 
the  general  anxiety  respecting  the  affairs  in  the  north, 
she  sug's^-csted  to  Ramsay  the  propriety  of  sending  some 
one  of  peculiar  trust  to  make  inquiries.  By  a  little  art 
she  easily  managed  that  the  young  chieftain  should  pro- 
pose Bothweil  to  W^allace  ;  and  on  the  very  night  that 
her  machinations  had  prevailed  to  dispatch  him  on  this 
embassy,  impatient,  yet  doubting  and  agitated  she  went 
to  declare  and  throw  herself  on  the  bosom  of  the  man 
for  whom  she  thus  sunk  herself  in  shame  and  falsehood. 

Wallace,  though  he  heard  the  denunciation  with 
Avhich  she  left  his  presence,  did  not  conceive  that  it  was 
more  than  the  evanescent  rage  of  disappointed  passion; 
and  anticipating  persecutions  rather  from  her  love  than 
her  revenge,  he  was  relieved  and  not  alarmed  by  the  in- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  269 

telUgence  that  the  knight  of  the  green  plume  had  real- 
ly taken  his  departure.  More  delicate  of  Lady  Mar's 
honour  than  she  was  of  her  own,  when  he  met  Edwin  at 
the  works  he  silently  acquiesced  in  his  belief,  that  their 
late  companion  was  gone  with  dispatches  to  the  Regent 
who  was  now  removed  to  Stirling. 

After  frequent  desperate  sallies  from  the  garrison, 
in  which  the  Southrons  were  always  beaten  back  with 
great  loss,  the  lines  of  circumvallation  were  at  la^t  iin- 
nished  and  Wallace  hourly  anticipated  the  surrender 
of  the  enemy.  Reduced  for  want  of  provisions,  anc. 
seeing  all  hope  of  succours  cut  off  by  the  seizure  of  the 
fleet,  the  inhabitants,  detesting  their  nev/  rulers,  rose 
in  strong  bodies,  and  lying  in  wait  for  the  soldiers  oi 
thp  garrison,  m.urdered  them  secretly  and  in  great  num- 
bers ;  and  by  the  punishments  which  the  governor 
thought  proper  to  inflict  on  the  guilty  and  guiltless  (as 
he  could  not  discover  v/ho  were  actually  the  assassins. ' 
the  distress  of  the  town  was  augmented  to  a  most  hor- 
rible degree.  Such  a  state  of  things  could  not  be  long 
maintained;  and  the  Southron  commander  perceiving 
the  peril  of  his  troops,  and  foreseeing  that  should  he 
continue  in  the  fortress  they  must  all  assuredly  perish 
either  by  the  insurrection  -yithin  or  the  enemy  from^  with- 
out, he  determined  no  longer  to  av/ait  the  appearance, 
of  a  relief  which  might  neverarrive  ;  and  to  stop  the  in  ■ 
ternal  confusion,  he  sent  a  flag  of  truce  to  Wallace  ac - 
cepting  and  signing  his  offered  terms  of  capitulafion. 
By  this  deed  he^engaged  to  open  the  gates  to  him  at, 
5un-set,  but  begged  the  interval  between  noon  and  that 
hour,  th^t  he  might  settle  the  animosities  between  his 
men  and  the  people,  before  he  should  surrender  his 
brave  followers  entirely  into  the  hands  of  the  Scots. 

Having  dispatched  his  assent  to  this  request  of  the 
governor's,  Wallace  retired  to  his  own  tent.— -That  he 
had  effected  his  purpose  without  the  carnage  whicli 
must  have  ensued  had  he  again  stormed  the  place,  grat- 
ified his  humanity  ;  and  congratulating  himself  on  sucli 
a  termination  of  the  siege,  he  turned  with  more  than 
usual  cheerfulness  towards  a  herald  who  brought  him 
a  packet  from  the  north. — The  man  withdreiv,  and 
z2 


•  ;o  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 


1 


Wallace  broke  the  seal ;  but  what  was  his  astonishment 
to  find  it  an  order  for  him  to  immediately  repair  to 
Stirling  and  there  answer,  before  the  Regent  and  the 
abthanes  of  Scotland  on  his  allegiance  to  his  country, 
certain  charges  brought  against  him  by  aa  authority  too 
illustrious  to  set  aside  without  examination.  At  the 
close  of  this  citation,  they  added,  "  The  Scots,  of  whom 
Sir  William  Wallace  has  so  long  declared  himself  the 
champion,  will  now  be  proud  to  shew  their  present  pow- 
er in  the  impartiality  with  which  they  will  award  the 
sentence  of  justice."  He  had  hardly  had  time  to  read  this 
extraordinary  mandate,  when  Sir  Simon  Eraser,  his  se* 
cond  in  command,  entered  and  with  consternation  in 
Iiis  looks  put  an  open  letter  into  his  hand. — It  ran  as 
follows  : 

"  Allegations  of  treason  against  the  liberties  of  Scot- 
land having  been  preferred  against  Sir  William  Wallace, 
until  he  clears  himself  of  the  charge,  you,  Sir  Simon 
Eraser,  are  directed  to  assume  in  his  stead  the  com- 
mand of  the  forces  which  form  the  blockade  of  Ber- 
wick ;  and  you  are  therefoi'e  ordered  to  see  that  the  ac- 
cused sets  forward  to  Stirling,  under  a  strong  guard, 
within  an  hour  after  you  receive  this  dispatch. 

Signed,  "  John  Cummin, 

Earl  of  Badenoch,  and  Lord  Regent  of  Scotland." 

Stirling'-  Castle. 

Wallace  returned  the  letter  to  Eraser  with  an  undis- 
turbed countenance  ;  "  I  have  received  a  similar  order 
from  the  Regent,"  said  he  ;  "  and  though  I  cannot  guess 
the  source  whence  these  accusations  spring  I  fear  not 
to  meet  them,  and  shall  require  no  guard  to  speed  me 
forward  to  the  scene  of  my  defence.  I  am  ready  to  go 
my  friend  :  and  happy  to  resign  the  brave  garrison  that 
has  just  surrendered,  to  your  honour  and  amity."  Era- 
ser answered  that  he  should  be  emulous  to  follow  his 
example  in  all  things,  and  to  abide  by  his  agreements 
with  the  Southron  governor.  He  then,  by  Wallace's 
desire  retired  to  prepare  the  army  for  the  departure  of 
their  commander  ;  and  much  against  his  Own  will,  to 
call  out  the  escort  that  was  to  attend  him  to  Stirling. 
'<  It  is  right,"  added  Wallace,  "that  I  should  pay  every 
respect  to  t,he  tribunal  of  my  country ;  and  with  regard 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  271 

to  this  small  ceremonial  af  a  guard  I  deem  it  proper  to 
submit  to  the  ordinance  of  its  rulers." 

When  the  marshal  of  the  army  read  to  the  officers 
and  men  the  orders  of  the  Regent,  that  they  must  obey 
Sir  Simon  Eraser  instead  of  Sir  William  Wallace  who 
was  summoned  to  Stirling  on  a  charge  of  treason,  a 
wordless  consternation  seized  on  one  part  of  the  troops 
and  as  violent  an  indignation  agitated  the  other  to 
tumult.  The  brave  Scots  who  had  followed  the  Chief 
of  Ellerslie  from  the  first  hour  of  his  appearing  as  a 
patriot  in  arms,  could  not  brook  this  aspersion  upon 
their  leader's  honour ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  ve- 
hement exhortations  of  the  no  less  incensed  though  more 
moderate  Scrymgeour  and  Ramsay,  they  would  have 
arisen  in  instant  revolt.  However,  they  would  not  be 
withheld  from  immediately  quitting  the  field  and  march- 
f  ing  directly  to  Wallace's  tent.  He  was  conversing  with 
Edwin  when  they  arrived,  and  in  some  measure  he  had 
broken  the  shock  to  him  of  so  dishonouring  a  charge 
on  his  friend,  by  his  being  the  first  to  communicate  it. 
In  vain  Edwin  strove  to  guess  who  could  be  the  in- 
ventor of  so  dire  a  falsehood  against  the  truest  of  Scots, 
and  he  awakened  that  alarm  in  Wallace  for  Bruce 
which  could  not  be  excited  for  himself,  by  suggesting 
that  perhaps  some  intimation  had  been  given  to  the 
most  ambitious  of  the  abthanes  respecting  the  arrival 
of  their  rightful  prince.  "  And  yet,"  returned  Wal- 
lace, "  I  cannot  altogether  suppose  that,  for  even  their 
desires  of  self-aggrandizement  could  not  torture  my 
share  in  Bruce's  restoration  to  his  country  into  any 
thing  like  treason  ;  our  friend's  rights  are  too  undispu- 
ted for  that :  and  all  I  should  dread  by  a  premature  dis- 
covery of  his  being  in  Scotland,  would  be  secret  machi- 
nations against  his  life.  There  are  men  in  this  land 
who  might  attempt  it  ;  and  it  is  our  duty  my  dear  Ed- 
win, to  suffer  death  upon  the  rack  rather  than  betray 
our  knowledge  of  him.  But,"  added  he  with  a  smile, 
"we need  not  disturb  ourselves  with  such  thoughts; 
for  the  Regent  is  in  our  prince's  confidence,  and  did 
this  accusation  relate  to  him  he  would  not  on  such  a 
plea  have  arraigned  me  as  a  traitor." 

Edwin  again  revolved  in  his  mind  the  nature  of  the 


272  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS, 

charge  and  who  the  villain  could  be  Vv^ho  had  made  it 
and  at  last  suddenly  recollecting  the  Knight  of  the 
Green  Plume,  he  asked  if  it  were  not  possible  that  as 
that  stranger  had  sedulously  kept  himself  from  being- 
known,  he  might  not  be  a  traitor  ?  "  I  must  confess  to 
you,"  continued  Edwin, "  that  this  knight,  who  ever  ap- 
peared to  dislike  your  closest  friends,  seems  to  me  the 
most  probable  instigator  of  this  mischief,  and  is  per- 
haps the  author  of  the  strange  failure  of  communica- 
tion between  you  and  Bruce  !  Accounts  have  not  ar- 
rived even  since  Bothwell  went,  and  that  is  more  than 
natural." 

Wallace  changed  colour  at  this  last  suggestion,  but 
merely  replied,  "  a  few  hours  will  decide  your  suspi- 
cion, for  I  shall  lose  no  time  in  confronting  my  enemy/* 
I  go  with  you,"  said  Edwin,"  for  never  while  I  live 
v/ill  I  consent  to  lose  sightof  my  dearest  friend  again  1" 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  the  tumultuous  noise  of  the 
Lanarkers  was  heard  without.  The  whole  band  rush- 
ed into  the  tent ;  and  Stephen  Ireland,  who  was  fore- 
most, raising  his  voice  above  the  rest  exclaimed, 
"  They  are  the  traitors,  my  lord,  who  would  accuse 
you!  It  is  determined  by  our  corrupted  Thanes,  that 
Scotland  shall  be  sacrificed,  and  you  are  to  be  made 
the  first  victim.  Think  they  then  that  we  will  obey 
such  parricides  ?  Lead  us  on,  thou  only  worthy  of  the 
name  of  Regent,  and  we  will  hurl  these  usurpers  from 
their  thrones  1" 

This  demand  was  reiterated  by  every  man  present; 
was  echoed  by  those  who  surrounded  the  tent.  The 
Bothweller's  and  Ramsay's  followers  had  joined  the 
men  of  Lanark ;  and  the  mutiny  against  the  orders  of 
the  Regent  became  general.  Wallace  walked  out  in- 
to the  open  field,  and  mounting  his  horse,  rode  forth 
amongst  them.  At  sight  of  him  the  air  resounded 
with  their  acclamttiious,  and  they  ceased  not  to  pro- 
claim him  their  only  leader,  till  taking  off  his  helmet 
and  stretching  out  his  arm  to  them  in  token  of  silence 
they  became  profoundly  still.  "  My  friends  and  bro- 
ther soldiers,"  cried  he,  "as  you  value  the  honour  of 
William  Wallace,  for  this  once  yieid  to  him  implicit 
obedience."     "Forever!"  shouted  the  Bothweii-men. 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  273 

«  We  will  never  obey  any  other  1"  rejoined  his  faithful 
Lanarkers,  and  with  an  increased  uproar  they  demand- 
ed to  be  led  to  Stirling.  His  extended  hand  again 
stilled  the  storm,  and  he  resumed :  "  You  shall  go  with 
me  to  Stirling  but  as  my  friends  only,  never  as  the  ene- 
mies of  the  Regent  of  Scotland.  I  am  charged  with 
treason :  it  is  his  duty  to  try  me  by  the  laws  of  my 
country;  it  is  mine  to  submit  to  the  inquisition — I 
fear  it  not,  and  I  invite  you  to  accompany  me ;  not  to 
brand  me  with  infamy  by  passing  between  my  now 
darkened  honour  and  the  light  of  justice;  not  to  avenge 
an  iniquitous  sentence  passed  on  a  guiltless  man  ;  but 
to  my  acquittal ;  and  in  that,  my  triumph  over  them 
who  .through  my  breast  strike  at  a  greater  than  I." 

At  this  mild  persuasive  every  upraised  sword  drop- 
ped before  him, in  token  of  obedience;  and  Wallace  turn- 
ing his  horse  into  the  path  which  led  towards  Stirling, 
his  men,  with  a  silent  determination  to  share  the  fate  of 
their  master,  fell  into  regular  marching  order  and  fol- 
lowed him.  Edwin,  confounded  at  the  present  situa- 
tion of  his  ungratefully-suspected  friend,  rode  by  his 
side  as  much  wondering  at  the  unaffected  composure 
with  v/hich  he  sustained  such  a  weight  of  insult,  as  at 
the  Regent  who  could  be  so  unjust  to  tried  virtue  as  to 
lay  it  upon  him. 

At  the  west  of  the  camp  the  detachment  appointed 
to  guard  Wallace  to  Stirling  came  up  with  him. — It 
was  with  difficulty  that  Eraser  could  find  an  officer  who 
would  command  it ;  and  he  who  did  at  last  consent,  ap- 
peared before  his  prisoner  with  down-cast  eyes,  seem- 
ing rather  the  culprit  than  the  guard.  Wallace  ob- 
serving his  confusion,  said  a  few  gracious  words  to 
him ;  and  the  officer  more  overcome  by  this  than  he 
could  have  been  with  his  reproaches,  burst  into  tears 
and  retired  into  the  rear  of  his  men. 

Wallace  entered  on  the  carse  of  Stirling,  that  scene 
of  his  many  victories,  and  beheld  its  northern  horizon 
white  with  tents. — A  few  miles  beyond  the  Carron  an 
armed  troop,  headed  by  young  Lord  Fife  the  son  of  him 
who  fell  at  Falkirk,  and  the  heralds  of  the  Regent,  met 
him. — Officers  appointed  for  the  purpose  had  apprized 
cd  the  abthanes  of  Wallace  having  left  Berwick  }  and 


274  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  1 

knowing  by  the  same  means,  all  his  movements,  thib 
cavalcade  was  ready  to  hold  his  followers  in  awe  and  to 
conduct  him  without  opposition  to  Stirling-.  In  case 
it  should  be  insufficient  to  quail  the  spirit  of  the  brave 
Lanarkers,  or  to  intimidate  him  who  had  never  yet 
been  made  to  fear  by  mortal  man,  the  Regent  having 
summoned  all  the  vassals  of  the  various  seigniories  of 
Cummin,  had  planted  them  in  battle  array  before  the 
walls  of  Stirling.  But  whether  they  were  friends  or 
foes,  was  equally  indifferent  to  Wallace,  for  secure  in 
his  own  integrity,  he  went  as  confidently  to  this  trial 
as  to  a  triumph.  In  either  case  he  should  demonstrate 
his  fidelity  to  Scotland ;  aiid  though  inwardly  marvel- 
ling at  such  a  panoply  of  war  being  called  out  to  in- 
duce him  to  comply  with  so  simple  an  act  of  obedience 
to  the  laws,  he  met  the  heralds  of  the  Regent  with  as 
much  ease  as  if  they  had  been  coming  to  congratulate 
him  on  the  capitulation,  the  ratification  of  which  he 
brought  in  his  hand. 

Ey  his  order  his  faithful  followers,  who  took  a  pride 
in  obeying  with  the  most  scrupulous  strictness  the  in- 
junctions of  their  now  deposed  commander,  encamped 
under  Sir  Alexander  Scrymgeour  and  Ramsay  near 
Ballochgeich,  to  the  north-west  of  the  castle.  It  was 
then  night.  In  the  morning  at  an  early  hour  Wallace, 
attended  by  Edwin,  was  summoned  before  the  council 
in  the  citadel. 

On  his  re-entrance  into  that  room  which  he  had  left 
the  dictator  of  th^e  kingdom,  when  every  knee  bent 
and  every  head  bowed  to  his  supreme  mandate,  he 
found  not  one  who  even  greeted  his  appearance  with 
the  commonest  ceremony  of  courtesy.  Badenoch  the 
Regent  sat  upon  the  throne,  pale,  and  with  evident 
symptoms  of  being  yet  an  invalid.  The  Lords  Athol 
and  Buchan,  and  the  numerous  chiefs  of  the  clans  of 
Cummin,  were  seated  on  his  right :  on  his  left  were 
arranged  the  Earls  of  Fyfe  and  Lorn,  Lord  Soulis,  and 
every  Scottish  baron  of  power  who  had  at  any  time 
shewn  himself  hostile  to  Wallace  :  others,  who  were 
of  easy  faith  to  a  tale  of  mal'ce,  sat  with  them ;  and 
the  rest  of  the  assembly  was  filled  up  with  men  of  bet- 
ter families  than  personal   fame,  and   whose   names 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  2^5 

swelled  a  catalogue  withcut  adding  any  true  impor- 
tance to  the  side  on  which  they  apf^eared.  A  few,  and 
those  a  very  few,  who  respected  Wallace,  were  pre- 
sent, and  they,  not  because  they  were  sent  for,  (great 
care  having  been  taken  not  to  summon  his  friends)  but 
in  consequence  of  a  rumour  of  the  charge  having 
reached  them ;  and  these  were  the  lords  Lennox  and 
Loch-awe  with  Kirkpatrick  and  two  or  tl?ree  chieftains 
from  the  western  Highlands.  None  of  them  had  ar- 
rived till  within  a  few  minutes  of  the  council  being 
opened,  and  Wallace  was  entering  at  one  door  as  they 
appeared  at  the  other. 

At  sight  of  him  a  low  whisper  buzzed  through  the 
hall,  and  a  marshal  took  the  plumed  bonnet  from  his 
hand,  which,  out  of  respect  to  the  nobility  of  Scotland, 
he  had  raised  from  his  head  at  his  entrance.  The  man 
then  preceding  him  to  a  spot  directly  in  front  of  the 
throne,  said,  in  a  voice  which  declared  the  reluctance 
with  which  he  uttered  the  words,  "  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace, being  charged  with  treason,  by  an  ordinance  of 
Fergus  the  first  you  must  stand  uncovered  before  the 
representative  of  the  majesty  of  Scotland  until  that 
loyalty  is  proved  which  will  again  restore  you  to  a  seat 
amongst  her  faithful  barons." 

Wallace,  with  the  same  equanimity  as  that  with  which 
he  would  have  mounted  the  regal  chair,  bowed  his  head 
to  the  marshal  in  token  of  acquiescence.  But  Edwin, 
whose  indignation  was  re-awakened  at  this  exclusion 
of  his  friend  from  the  privilege  of  his  birth,  said  some- 
thing so  warm  to  the  marshal  that  Wallace  in  a  low 
voice  was  obliged  to  check  his  vehemence  by  a  decla- 
ration that  it  was  his  determination,  (however  obsolete 
the  custom  and  revived  in  his  case  only)  to  submit  him- 
self in  every  respect  to  whatever  was  exacted  of  him 
by  the  laws  of  his  country. 

On  Loch-awe  and  Lennox  observing  him  stand  thus 
before  the  bonneted  arid  seated  chiefs,  (a  stretch  of 
magisterial  prerogative  which  had  not  been  exercised 
for  many  a  century  by  any  but  a  king)  they  took  off 
their  caps,  and  bowing  to  Wallace,  refused  to  occupy 
their  places  on  the  benches  while  the  defender  of 
Scotland  stood.      Kirkpatrick   drew   eagerly  towards 


276  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

him  and  throwing  down  his  casque  and  sword  at  his 
feet,  cried  in  a  loud  voice,  "  lie  there  till  the  only  true 
man  in  all  this  land  commands  me  to  take  ye  up  in  his 
defence.  He  alone  had  courage  to  look  the  Southrons 
in  the  face  and  to  drive  their  king  over  the  borders, 
while  his  present  accusers  skulked  in  their  chains  1" 
Wallace  regarded  this  ebullition  from  the  heart  of  the 
honest  veteran  with  a  look  that  was  eloquent  to  all.  He 
would  have  animatedly  praised  such  an  instance  of  fear- 
less gratitude  expressed  to  another,  and  when  it  was 
directed  to  himself,  his  ingenuous  soul  shewed  what 
he  felt  in  every  feature  of  his  beaming  countenance. 

"  Is  it  thus,  presumptuous  knight  of  Ellerslie  ?'* 
cried  Soulis,  "  that  by  your  looks  you  dare  to  encour- 
age contumely  to  the  Lord  Regent  and  his  peers  1" 
Wallace  did  not  deign  him  an  answer,  but  turning 
calmly  towards  the  throne,  "  Representative  of  my 
king  !'*  said  he,  "  in  duty  to  the  power  whose  author- 
ity you  wear,  I  have  obeyed  your  summons;  and  I  here 
await  the  appearance  of  the  accuser  who  has  had  the 
hardihood  to  brand  the  name  of  William  Wallace  with 
disloyalty  to  prince  or  people." 

The  Regent  was  embarrassed.  He  did  not  suffer  his 
eyes  to  meet  those  of  Wallace,  but  looked  from  side 
to  side  in  manifest  confusion  during  this  address ;  and 
when  it  ended,  without  a  reply  to  the  chief,  he  turned 
to  Lord  Athol  and  called  on  him  to  open  the  charge. 
Athol  required  not  a  second  summons :  he  rose  imme- 
diately, and  in  a  bold  and  positive  manner  accused 
Wallace  of  having  been  won  over  by  Philip  of  France 
to  sell  those  rights  of  supremacy  to  him  which,  with  a 
feigned  patriotism,  his  sword  had  wrested  from  the 
grasp  of  England.  For  this  treachery  Philip  was  to 
endow  him  with  the  sovereignty  of  Scotland;  and  as 
a  pledge  of  the  compact,  he  had  invested  him  with  the 
principality  of  Gascony  in  France.  "  This  is  the 
ground -work  of  his  treason,"  continued  Athol,  "  but 
the  catastrophe  is  yet  to  be  cemented  by  our  blood — 
I  have  seen  a  list  in  his  own  hand  writing,  in  which  are 
the  names  of  those  chiefs  whose  lives  are  to  pave  his 
way  to  the  throne." 

At  this  point  of  the  charge,  Edwin,  wrought  up  be- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  2rr 

a^'ond  .longer  forbearance,  sprang  forward,  but  Wallace 
perceiving  the  intent  of  his  movem^'at  caught  him  by 
the  arm,  and  by  a  look  reminded  him  of  his  recently 
repeated  engagement  to  keep  silent. 

"  Produce  the  list,"  cried  Eord  Lennox,  "  no  evi- 
dence that  does  not  bring  proofs  to  our  eyes,  ought  to 
have  any  weight  with  us  against  the  man  who  has  bled 
in  every  vein  for  Scotland."  "  It  shall  be  brought  to 
your  eyes,"  returned  Alhol ;  ^^  that,  and  other  damning- 
proofs,  shall  convince  this  too  credulous  country  of  its 
long  abused  confidence."  *'  I  see  them  now  1"  cried 
Kirkpatrick,  who  had  frowningly  listened  to  AthoU 
"  the  abusers  of  my  country's  coniidencc  betray  them- 
selves at  this  moment  by  their  eagerness  to  impeach  her 
friends ;  and  I  pray  heaven  that  before  they  mislead 
others  into  so  black  a  conspiracy,  the  lie  in  their  throats 
may  choke  its  inventors !"  "  We  all  know,"  cried 
Athol,  turning  on  Kirkpatrick,  "  te  whom  you  belong. 
— You  were  bought  with  the  horrid  grant  to  mangle 
the  body  of  the  slain  Cressingham;  a  deed  which  has 
brought  a  stigma  on  the  Scottish  name  never  to  be  eras- 
ed but  by  the  immolation  of  its  perpetrators.  For  this 
savage  triumph  did  you  sellyourself  to  William  Wallace : 
and  a  bloody^  champion  would  you  always  prove  of  a 
fiiost  secretly  murderous  master  !" 

"  Hear  you  this,  and  bear  it  ?"  cried  Kirkpatrick, 
and  Edwin  in  one  breath  and  grasping  their  daggers ; 
Edwin's  the  next  moment  flashed  in  his  hand.  "  Seize 
them  !"  cried  Athol,  "  my  life  is  threatened  by  his 
myrmidons/' — Two  marshals  instantly  approached  to 
put  the  order  in  execution ;  but  Wallace,  who  had 
hitherto  stood  in  silent  dignity  allowing  his  calumnia- 
tor to  disgorge  all  his  venom  before  he  would  conde- 
scend to  point  out  to  them  who  never  ought  to  have  sus- 

j  pected  him  where  the  poison  lay,  now  turned  to  the 
men,  and  with  that  tone  of  justice  which  had  ever  com- 

i  manded  from  his  lips,  he  bade  them  forbear: — "  Touch 
these  knights  at  your  peril,  marshals  1"  said  he,  "  No 
man  in  this  chamber  is  above  the  laws  ;  and  they  prO" 
tect  every  Scot  who  resents  unjust  aspersions  qpon  his 
own  character,  or  irrelevant  and  prejudicing  attacks  on 
that  of  an  arraigned  friend.     It  is  before  the  majesty  of 

VOL.    II,  A  A. 


278  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

the  law  that  I  now  stand ;  but  were  injury  to  usurp  its 
place,  not  all  the  lords  in  Scotland  should  detain  me  a 
moment  in  a  scene  so  unworthy  of  my  country."  The 
marshals  retreated  ;  for  they  had  been  accustomed  to 
regard  with  implicit  deference  the  opinion  of  Sir  Wil- 
liam Wallace  on  the  laws  ;  and  though  he  now  stood  in 
the  light  of  their  violater,  yet  memory  bore  testimony 
tlAithe  had  always  read  them  aright  and  to  this  hour 
had  ever  appeared  to  make  them  the  guide  of  his  ac- 
tions. 

Athol  saw  that  none  in  the  assembly  had  courage  to 
enforce  this  act  of  his  violence,  and  blazing  with  fury 
he  poured  his  whole  wrath  upon  Wallace  j — "  Imperi- 
ous, arrogant  traitor !"  cried  he,  "  This  presumption 
only  deepens  our  impression  of  your  guilt  1 — Demean 
yourself  with  more  reverence  to  this  august  court,  or 
expect  to  be  sentenced  on  the  proof  which  such  inso- 
lence amply  gives ;  we  require  no  other  to  proclaim 
your  domineering  spirit,  and  to  at  once  condemn  you  as 
the  premeditated  tyrant  of  our  land." — "  Lord  Athol," 
replied  Wallace,  "  what  is  just,  I  would  say  in  the  face 
of  all  the  courts  in  Christendom.  It  is  not  in  the  power 
of  man  to  make  me  silent  when  I  see  the  laws  of  my 
country  outraged  and  my  countrymen  oppressed. 
Though  I  may  submit  my  own  cheek  to  the  blow,  I 
will  not  permit  their 's  to  share  the  stroke.  I  have  an- 
swered you,  earl,  to  this  point ;  and  I  am  ready  to  hear 
you  to  the  end." 

Athol  resumed. — "I  am  not  your  only  accuser, 
proudly-confident  man ;  you  shall  see  one  whose  truth 
cannot  be  doubted,  and  whose  first  glance  will  bow  that 
haughty  spirit  and  cover  that  bold  front  with  the  livery 
of  shame  !  My  Lord,"  cried  he,  turning  to  ::he  Regent, 
"I  shall  bring  a  most  illustrious  witness  before  you ^ 
one  who  will  prove  on  oath  that  it  was  the  intention  of 
this  arch-hypocrite,  this  angler  for  v,omen's  hearts,  this 
perverter  of  men's  understandings,  before  another  moon 
to  bury  deep  in  blood  the  very  people  whom  he  now  insidi- 
ously affects  to  protect^  But  to  open  your  and  the  na- 
tion's eyes  at  once  ;  to  overwhelm  him  with  his  fate  j 
I  now  call  forth  the  evidence." 

The  m^arshals  opened  a  door  in  the  side  of  the  h^l 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  279 

and  led  a  lady  forward  habited  in  regal  splendour  and 
covered  from  head  to  foot  wit>.  a  veil  of  so  transparent 
a  texture,  that  her  costly  apparel  and  majestic  contour 
were  distinctly  seen.  She  was  conducted  to  a  chair 
that  was  elevated  on  a  tapestried  platform  at  a  few 
paces  from  where  Wallace  stood.  On  her  being  seated 
the  Regent  rose  .and  in  a  tremulous  voice  addressed 
her. — ' 

*'  Joanna,  Countess  of  Strathearn  and  Mar,  and  Prin- 
cess of  the  Orkneys,  we  adjure  thee  by  thy  princely  dig- 
nity, and  in  the  name  of  the  King  of  Kings,  to  bear  a 
just  witness  to  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  the  charges  of 
treason  and  conspiracy  now  brought  against  Sir  Wil- 
liam Wallace." 

The  name  of  his  accuser  made  Wallace  start:  and 
the  sight  of  her  unblushhig  face,  for  she  threw  aside 
her  veil  the  moment  she  was  addressed,  overspread  his 
cheek  with  a  tinge  of  that  shame  for  her  which  she 
was  now  too  hardened  in  determined  crime  to  feel  her- 
self. Edwin  gazed  at  her  in  speechless  horror,  while 
vhe,  casting  a  glance  on  Wallace  in  which  the  full  pur- 
pose of  her  soul  was  declared,  turned  with  a  more  sof- 
tened though  majestic  air  to  the  Regent  and  spoke. — 

"  My  lord  !"  said  she,  ^'■you  see  before  you  a  woman 
who  never  knew  what  it  was  to  feel  a  self-reproachful 
pang  till  an  evil  hour  brought  her  to  receive  an  obliga- 
tion from  that  insidious,  treacherous  man.  But,  as  my 
first  passion  has  ever  been  the  love  of  my  country,  I  will 
prove  it  to  this  good  assembly  by  making  before  them, 
the  confession  of  what  was  once  my  heart's  weakness : 
and  by  that  candour  I  trust  they  will  fully  honour  the 
rest  of  my  narrative." 

A  clamour  of  approbation  resounded  through  the 
hall.  Lennox  and  Eoch-awe  looked  on  each  other  with 
amazement.  Kirkpatrick,  recollecting  the  scenes  at 
Dumbarton,  exclaimed — "Jezabel!" — but  the  ejacula- 
tion was  lost  in  the  general  burst  of  applause;  and  the 
Countess,  after  having  cast  down  her  eyes  with  affect- 
ed sensibility,  again  looked  up  and  resumad, 

"  I  am  not  to  tell  you,  my  lord,  that  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace released  the  late  Earl  of  Mar  and  myself  from  South- 
ron captivity  at  Dumbarton  and  in  this  citadel.     Our 


:280  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

deliverer  was  what  you  see  him;  fraught  with  attra^; 
tions  which  he  too  successfully  directed  against  the 
peace  of  a  young  woman,  married  to  a  man  of  paternal 
years.  While  to  all  the  rest  of  the  world  he  seemed  to 
consecrate  himself  to  the  memory  of  his  murdered 
ivife,  to  me  alone  he  unveiled  his  impassioned  heart. 
[  revered  my  nuptuul  vow  too  sincerely  to  listen  to  him 
with  the  complacency  he  v.ished  :  but,  I  blush  to  own, 
that  his  tears,  his  agonies  of  love,  his  youthful  graces, 
and  the  virtues  I  believed  he  possessed,  (for  well  he 
knows  to  assume  !)  co-operating  with  my  ardent  grati- 
tude, wrought  such  a  change  in  my  breast  that  I  became 
wretched:  no  guilty  wish  was  there;  but  afi  admira- 
tion of  him,  a  pity  which  undermined  my  health,  and 
left  me  miserable!  I  forbade  him  to  approach  me.  I 
tried  to  wrest  him  from  my  memory ;  and  nearly  had 
succeeded,  when  I  was  informed  by  my  late  husband's 
nephew,  the  youth  who  now  stands  beside  Sir  William 
Wallace,  that  he  -was  returned  under  an  assumed  name 
from  France.  Then  I  feared  that  all  my  inward  struggles 
were  to  re-commence.  I  had  once  conquered  myself: 
for,  abhorring  the  estrangement  of  my  thoughts  from 
•my  wedded  lord  during  his  life,  on  his  death  I  had,  in 
penance  for  my  involuntary  crime,  refused  Sir  William 
Wallace  my  hand.  His  re-appeurance  filled  me  v/ith 
tumults  which  only  they  who  would  sacrifice  all  they 
prize  to  a  sense  of  duty  can  know.  Edwin  Ruthven 
left  me  at  Hunting-tower.  That  very  evening,  as  I 
was  walking  alone  in  the  garden,  I  was  surprised  by 
the  sudden  approach  t)f  an  armed  man.  He  threw  a 
scarf  over  my  head  to  prevent  my  screams,  but  I  faint- 
ed with  terror.  He  tlicn  took  me  from  the  garden  by 
the  way  he  had  entered,  and  placing  me  on  a  horse  be- 
fore him,  galloped  with  me  whitlier  I  know  not  I  but 
on  my  recovery  I  found  myself  in  a  chamber  with  an 
old  woman  standing  beside  me,  and  the  same  warrior, 
who  was  dressed  in  green  armour  ^ith  his  visor  so 
closed  that  I  could  not  see  his  face.  On  my  expressing 
alarm  at  my  situation  he  addressed  me  in  French,  tell- 
ing me  that  he  had  provided  a  man  to  carry  an  excuse 
to  Hunting-tower  which  would  prtvent  all  pursuit; 
^nd  then  he  put  a  letter  into  my  hand  which  he  said  he 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  281 

brought  from  Sir  William  Wallace.  Anxious  to  know 
what  he  intended  by  this  act;  and  believing  that  a  man 
who  had  sworn  to  me  such  devoted  love  could  not  seri- 
ously premeditate  further  outrage  I  broke  the  seal,  and 
as  nearly  as  I  can  recollect  read  to  this  effect : 

"  That  his  passion  was  so  imperious  that  he  was  de- 
termined to  make  me  his  even  in  spite  of  the  sublime 
scnUments  of  female  purity  which,  while  they  tortured 
him,  rendered  me  dearer  in  his  eyes.  He  told  me  that  as 
he  had  often  read  in  my  downcast  blushes  the  sympathy 
which  my  too  severe  virtue  made  me  conceal, — he 
would  now  wrest  me  from  my  cheerless  widowhood; 
and  having  nothing  in  reality  to  reproach  myself  with^ 
<:ompcl  me  to  be  happy.  His  friend,  the  only  confident 
of  his  love,  had  brought  me  to  a  spot  whence  I  could 
not  fly:  there  I  should  remain  till  he  could  leave  the 
army  for  a  few  days,  and,  (he  throwing  himself  on  my 
compassion  and  tenderness,)  receive  him  as  the  most 
faithful  of  lovers,  the  fondest  of  husbands. 

"  This  letter,"  continued  the  Countess,  "  was  fol- 
lowed by  many  others,  and,  suffice  it  to  say,  that  the  la- 
tent affection  in  my  heart  and  his  subduing  love,  were 
too  powerful  advocates  in  his  cause.  How  his  letters 
were  brought  I  know  not,  but  they  were  duly  brought 
to  me  by  the  old  woman,  who  remained  firm  against 
answering  me  any  questions.  She  likewise  carried 
away  my  perhaps  too  fond  replies.  At  last  the  Knight 
of  the  Green  Plume  re-appeared."  "  Prodigious  vil- 
lain 1"  broke  from  the  lips  of  Edwin.  The  Countess 
turned  her  eye  on  him  for  a  moment,  aad  then  resum- 
ed :  "  He  was  the  warrior  who  had  borne  me  from  Hunt- 
ting-tower,  and  from  tliat  hour  until  the  period  I  now 
speak  of,  1  had  never  seen  him.  He  put  another  pack- 
et into  my  hand,  desiring  me  to  peruse  it  with  atten- 
tion and  return  Sir  William  Wallace  a  verbal  answer 
by  him.  Yes,  was  all  he  required.  I  retired  to  open 
it,  and  what  was  my  horror  when  I  read  a  perfect  de- 
velopenient  of  the  treasons  for  which  he  was  now 
brought  to  an  account  I — By  some  mistake  of  my  cha- 
racter he  had  conceived  me  to  be  ambitious,  and 
knowing  himself  master  of  my  heart,  he  fcxhcied  him- 
self lord  of  my  conscience  also.     He  wrote^  that  untif 

A  A  2 


282  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

he  saw  me  he  had  no  other  end  in  his  exertions  for 
Scotland  than  her  rescue  from  a  foreign  yoke ;  but^ 
added  he,  from  the  moment  in  which  I  Jirst  be- 
held my  adored  Joanna^  I  aspired  to  place  a  cronun 
on  her  brows  I  He  then  told  me  that  he  did  not  deem 
the  time  of  its  presentation  to  him  on  the  carse  of  Stir- 
ling a  safe  period  for  its  acceptance,  neither  was  he 
tempted  to  run  the  risk  of  maintaining  an  unsteady 
throne  when  I  was  not  free  to  enjoy  it;  but  since  the 
death  of  Lord  Mar  every  wish,  every  hope  was  re- 
awakened, afid  he  had  determined  to  become  a  king. — 
Philip  of  France  had  made  secret  articles  with  him  to 
this  end.  He  was  to  hold  Scotland  of  him. — And  to 
jUiake  the  surrender  of  his  country's  liberties  sure  to 
Philip,  and  the  sceptre  to  himself  and  his  posterity,  he 
attempted  to  persuade  me  that  there  would  be  no  crime 
in  destroying  the  chiefs  whose  names  he  enrolled  in 
this  list.  The  pope,  he  added,  would  absolve  me  for  a 
transgression  dictated  by  love,  and  on  our  bridal  day  1>€ 
proposed  that  the  deed  should  be  done, — He  would  in- 
vite all  these  lords  to  a  feast,  and  poison  or  the  dagger 
should  soon  lay  them  at  his  feet. 

"  So  impious  a  proposal  immediately  restored  me  to 
myself.  My  love  at  once  turned  to  the  most  decided 
abhorrence  ;  and  hastening  to  the  Knight  of  the  Green 
Plume,  I  told  him  to  carry  nVy  resolution  to  his  master, 
that  I  would  never  see  him  more  till  I  should  appear  as 
hie  accuser  before  the  tribunal  of  his  country.  The 
knight  tried  to  dissuade  me  from  my  purpose,  but  in 
vain :  and  becoming  alarmed  at  my  threats  of  the  pun- 
ishment that  would  await  hijnself  as  the  agent  of  such  a 
treason,  a  sudden  remorse  seiz:,d  him  and  he  confess- 
ed to  me  that  the  scene  of  his  first  appearance  at 
Linlithgow  was  devised  by  Wallace  who,  unknown  to 
all  others,  had  brought  him  over  from  France  as  an 
assistant  in  schemes  not  to  be  confided  to  Scotland's 
friends.  If  I  would  guarantee  his  life,  he  offered  to 
take  me  from  the  place  where  I  was  then  confined  and 
convey  me  safe  to  Stirling.  All  he  asked  was,  that  I 
would  leave  every  letter  behind  me,  and  suffer  my  eyes 
to  be  blindfolded. — This  I  consented  to,  but  the  list  I 
had  undesignedly  put  in  mj;  bosQm.«~MY  head  was  a^air 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  283 

wrapped  in  a  thick  veil,  and  we  set  out.  It  was  very- 
dark,  and  we  travelled  long  and  swiftly  till  we  come  to 
a  wood.  There  was  no  moon  nor  stars  to  point  out 
any  habitation. — But  I  was  fatigued ;  my  conductor 
persuaded  me,  and  I  dismounted  to  take  rest.  I  slept 
beneath  the  trees.  In  the  morning  when  I  awoke,  I 
in  vain  looked  round  for  the  knight  and  called  him ;  he 
was  gone,  and  I  saw  him  no  more.  I  then  made  the 
best  of  my  way  to  Stirling  to  warn  my  country  of  its 
danger,  and  to  unmask  to  the  world  the  direst  hypo- 
crite that  ever  prostituted  the  name  of  virtue." 

The  Countess  ceased ;  and  a  hundred  voices  broke 
out  at  once,  pouring  invectives  on  the  murderous  ambi- 
tion of  Sir  William  Wallace,  and  invoking  the  Regent 
to  pass  some  signal  condemnation  on  so  monstrous  a 
crime.  In  vain  Kirkpatrick  thundered  forth  all  that  was 
in  his  indignant  soul  ;  he  was  unheard  in  the  general 
tumult :  but  going  up  to  the  Countess,  he  accused  her 
to  her  face  of  ingratitude  and  falsehood  and  charged  her. 
with  a  design,  from  some  really  treasonable  motive,  to 
destroy  the  only  sure  hope  of  her  country. 

''  And  will  you  not  speak  ?"  cried  Edwin,  in  agony 
of  spirit  clasping  Wallace's  arm,  "  will  you  not  speak, 
before  these  ungrateful  men  shall  dare  to  brand  your 

ever  honoured  name  with  infamy  ? Make  yourself 

be  heard,  my  noblest  friend  !  and  confute  that  wicked 
woman,  who  too  surely  has  proved  what  I  suspected, 
that  this  knight  came  to  be  a  traitor."  "  I  will  speak 
my  Edwin,"  returned  Wallace,  "  at  the  proper  mo- 
ment, bnt  not  in  this  tumult  of  my  enemies. — Rely  on 
it  that  your  friend  will  submit  to  no  unjust  decree." 

"  Where  is  this  Knight  of  the  Green  Plume  ?"  cried 
Lennox,  who  was  almost  startled  in  his  opinion  of  Wal- 
lace by  the  consistency  of  the  Countess's  narrative  ; 
»'  No  mark  of  dishonour  shall  be  passed  on  Sir  William 
Wallace  without  the  strictest  scrutiny.  Let  the  mys- 
terious stranger  be  found  and  confronted  with  Lady 
Strathearn."  Notwithstanding  the  earl's  insisting  ou 
impartial  justice  she  perceived  the  doubt  in  his  counte- 
nance, and  eager  to  maintain  her  advantage,  she  re- 
plied— "  The  knight  I  fear  has  fled  beyond  our  search  : 
"JUt,  tha.t  I  niay  not  w&nt  a  witness  to  corroborate  the 


284  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

love  I  once  felt  for  this  arch-hypoorite,  and  conse- 
quently the  sacrifice  I  must  have  made  to  loyalty  in  this 
unveiling  him  to  the  world,  I  call  upon  you,  Lord  Len- 
nox, to  say  whether  you  did  not  observe*  at  Dumbarton 
Castle  the  state  6f  my  too  grateful  heart  1" 

Lennox,  who  well  remembered  her  conduct  in  the 
citadel  of  that  fortress,  hesitated  to  answer,  aware  that 
his  reply  would  substantiate  a  guilt  which  he  now 
feared  was  but  too  strongly  made  manifest.  Every  ear 
hung  on  his  answer.  Wallace  saw  what  was  passing  in 
his  mind,  and  determined  to  allow  all  men  to  shew 
what  was  in  their  hearts  towards  him  and  justice,  before 
he  would  interrupt  them  with  his  defence  he  looked  to- 
wards the  carl  and  said,  "  Do  not  hesitate,  my  lord, 
speak  all  that  you  know  or  think  of  me.  Could  the 
deeds  of  my  life  be  written  on  yon  blue  vault,"  added 
he,  pointing  to  the  heavens,  "  and  my  breast  be  laid, 
open  for  men  to  scan,  I  should  be  content :  for  then  I 
should  be  known  to  Scotland  as  I  am  to  my  Creator,  and 
the  evidence  which  now  makes  even  friendship  doubt^ 
would  me&t  the  reception  due  to  calumny." 

Lord  Lennox  felt  the  last  remark,  and  filled  with  re- 
morse for  having  for  a  moment  credited  any  thing 
against  the  frank  spirit  which  gave  him  this  permission, 
he  replied,  "  To  Lady  Strathcarn's  question  I  must  an- 
swer, that  at  Dumbarton  I  did  perceive  her  preference 
of  Sir  William  Wallace,  but  I  never  saw  .ny  thing  in 
him  to  warrant  the  idea  that  it  was  reciprocal.  And 
yet,  were  it  even  so,  that  bears  nothing  to  the  point  of 
the  Countess's  accusation  ;  and  notwithstanding  her 
princely  rank  and  the  deference  all  would  pay  to  the 
widow  of  Lord  Mar,  we  cannot  as  true  Scots  relinquish 
our  faith  in  a  man  who  has  so  eminently  served  his 
country,  to  any  single  witness." 

"  No  r*  cried  Locl>awe,  "  If  the  Knight  of  the  Green 
Plume  be  above  ground,  he  shall  be  brought  before 
this  tribunal.  He  alone  can  be  the  traitor,  and  must 
have  deceived  the  Countess  by  this  device  against  Sir 
William  Wallace."  "  No,  no  T'  interrupted  she,  "  i 
read  the  whole  in  his  own  hand-writing  ;  and  this  list 
of  the  barons  condemned  by  him  to  die,  will  fully 
evince  his  guilt :  even  your  name,  too  generous  earl^ 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  285 

is  in  the  horrid  catalogue." x\s  she  spoke  she  rose 

eagerly  to  hand  him  the  scroll. 

"  Let  me  now  s^peak.  or  stab  me  to  the  heart,"  hastily 
whispered  Edwin  to  his  friend.  Wallace  did  not  with- 
hold him,  for  he  guessed  what  would  be  the  remark  of 
his  ardent  soul.  "  Hear  that  woman  1"  cried  the  vehe- 
ment youth  to  the  Regent,  "  and  say  whether  she  now 
speaks  the  language  of  one  who  had  ever  loved  the 
virtues  of  Sir  William  Wallace  ?  Were  she  innocent 
of  malice  towards  the  deliverer  of  Scotland,  would  she 
not  have  rejoiced  in  Lord  Loch-awe's  supposition  that 
the  Green  Knight  was  the  traitor  ? — And  if  that  scroll 
she  has  now  given  into  the  hand  of  his  lordship  be  too 
nicely  forged  for  her  to  detect  its  not  being  indeed  the 
hand-writing  of  the  noblest  of  men,  would  she  not 
have  shewn  some  sorrow,  at  least,  at  being  obliged  to 
maintain  the  guilt  of  one  she  professes  once  to  have^ 
loved  ? — But  here  her  malice  has  over-stepped  her  art ; 
and  after  having  promoted  the  success  of  her  tale  by  so 
cunningly  mingling  truths  of  no  moment  with  false- 
hoods of  capital  import  that  in  acknowledging  the  one 
we  seem  to  grant  the  other,  she  falls  into  her  own 
snare,  and  even  a  boy,  as  you  see,  can  discern  that 
however  vile  the  Green  Knight  may  be,  she  shares  his 
wickedness  :'* 

While  Edwin  spoke  Lady  Strathearn's  countenance 
underwent  a  thousand  changes  :  twice  she  attempted  to 
rise  and  interrupt  him,  but  Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick  hav- 
ing fixed  his  eye&  on  her  with  a  menacing  determina- 
tion to  prevent  her,  she  found  herself  obliged  to  re- 
main quiescent.  Full  of  a  newly  excited  fear  that 
Wallace  had  confided  to  her  nephew  the  last  scene  in 
his  tent,  she  started  up  as  he  seemed  to  pause,  and  with 
assumed  mildness  again  addressing  the  Regent,  said, 
that  before  the  words  of  any  follower  of  Wallace  could 
sink  into  impartial  minds  she  thought  it  just  to  inform 
the  council  of  the  infatuated  attachment  of  Edwin 
Ruthven  to  the  accused,  and  she  concluded  by  asserting 
that  she  had  ample  cause  for  knowing  that  tlie  boy  was 
so  bewitched  by  the  commander,  who  had  ilattered  his 
youthful  vanity  by  loading  him  with  the  distinctions 
only  due  to  approved  valour  in  manhood,  that  he  was 


:^86  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS, 

ready  at  any  time  to  sacrifice  every  consideration  oi 
truth,  reason,  and  duty,  to  please  Sir  William  Wallace. 

"  That  may  be,  lady,"  said  Lord  Loch-awe,  inter- 
rupting her,  "  but  as  I  know  no  occasion  in  which  it  is 
possible  for  Sir  William  Wallace  to  falsify  the  truth,  I 
call  upon  him,  in  justice  to  himself  and  to  his  country, 
to  reply  to  three  questions  !'* — Wallace  bowed  to  the 
venerable  earl,  and  he  proceeded — "  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace, are  you  guilty  or  not  guilty  of  the  charge  brought 
against  you  of  a  design  to  mount  the  throne  of  Scot- 
land by  means  of  the  King  of  France  V* 

Wallace  replied,  "  I  never  designed  to  mount  the 
throne  of  Scotland  either  by  my  own  means,  or  by  any 
other  man's." 

Loch-awe  proceeded,  "Was  this  scroll,  contain- 
ing the  names  of  certain  Scottish  chiefs  noted  down 
for  assassination,  written  by  you,  or  under  your  conniv- 
ance ?" 

"  I  ftever  saw  the  scroll,  nor  heard  of  the  scroll,  un- 
til this  hour.  And  harder  than  deat^h  is  the  pang  at  my 
heart  when  a  Scottish  chief  finds  it  necessary  to  ask 
me  such  a  question  regarding  any  individuals  of  a  peo- 
ple, to  save  even  the  least  of  whom,  he  has  ever  seen 
me  ready  to  risk  my  life  !" 

"Another  question,"  replied  Loch-awe,  and  then, 
"bravest  of  men.  if  your  country  acquits  you  not  in 
thought  and  deed,  Campbell  of  Loch-awe  sits  no  more 
amongst  its  judges  ! — What  is  your  knowledge  of  the 
Knight  of  the  Green  Plume,  that  you  should  intrust 
him,  in  preference  to  any  Scottish  friend,  with  your 
wishes  respecting  the  Countess  of  Strathearn  ?" 

Wallace's  answer  was  brief,  "  I  never  had  any  wish- 
es respecting  the  v/ife  or  widow  of  my  friend  the  Earl 
of  Mar  thatldidnot  impart  to  every  chieftain  in  the 
camp,  and  those  wishes  went  no  further  than  for  her 
safety.  As  to  love,  that  is  a  passion  I  shall  know  no 
more ;  and  Lady  Strathearn  can  alone  say  what  is  the 
end  she  aims  at  by  attributing  feelings  to  me,  v,rith 
regard  to  her,  which  I  never  conceived  and  words 
which  I  never  uttered.  Like  this  passion,  with  which 
she  says  she  inspired  me,"  added  he,  turning  his  eyes 
steadily  on   her  face, "  was  the  Knight  of  the  Green 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  287 

Plume  !  You  are  all  acquainted  with  the  manner  of  his 
introduction  to  me  at  Linlithgow ;  you  all  know,  with 
the  account  that  he  then  gave  of  himself,  as  much 
of  him  as  I  did,  till  on  the  night  that  he  left  me  at  Ber- 
wick— and  then  I  found  him,  like  this  story  of  Lady 
Strathearn,  all  a  fable." 

"  Name  him,  on  your  knighthood  i"  exclaimed  Bu- 
cban,  "  for  yet  he  shall  be  brought  to  support  the  vera- 
city of  my  illustrious  kinswoman  and  fully  to  unmask 
I  to  the  world  his  insidious  accomplice  1" 

**  Your  kinswoman.  Earl  Buchan,"  replied  Wallace, 
can  best  answer  you  that  question." 

Lord  Athol  approached  the  Regent  with  an  inflamed 
countenance  and  whispering  something  in  his  ear,  this 
unworthy  representative  of  the  generous  Bruce  rose 
immediately  from  his  seat  and  said,  "  Sir  William 
Wallace  you  have  replied  to  the  questions  of  Lord 
Loch-awe,  but  where  are  your  witnesses  to  prove  that 
what  you  have  spoken  is  the  truth  ?" 

Wallace  for  a  moment  was  struck  with  surprise  at 
the  tone  and  words  of  this  address  from  a  man  who, 
whatever  might  be  demanded  of  him  in  the  fulfilment 
of  his  office,  he  h^d  iDelieved  to  be  not  only  his  friend 
but,  by  the  confidence  reposed  in  him  both  by  Bruce 
and  himself,  fully  aware  of  the  impossibility  of  these 
allegations  being  true.  But  W^allace  now  saw  with  an 
eye  that  pierced  through  the  souls  of  the  whole  as- 
sembly, and  with  collected  firmneijs  he  replied, — "  My 
witnesses  are  in  the  bosom  of  every  Scotsman." 

"  I  cannot  find  them  in  mine,"  interrupted  Athol. — 
?'  Nor  in  mine  1"  was  echoed  from  various  parts  of  the 
hall. 

"  Invalidate  the  fiicts  brought  against  you  by  some- 
thing more  than  this  rhetorical  appeal,"  added  the  Re- 
gent, "  else,  I  fear,  the  sentence  of  the  law  must  be 
passed  on  such  a  tacit  acknowledgment  of  guilt." 

"  Acknov/ledgment  of  guilt  1"  cried  Wallace,. with  a 
flush  of  godlike  indignation  suffusing  his  noble  brow, 
"  If  any  one  of  the  chieftains  who  have  just  spoken, 
knew  the  beat  of  an  honest  heart,  they  would  not  have 
declared  that  they  heard  no  voice  proclaim  the  integ- 
rity of  William  \Vallace.     Let  them  then  recollect  the 


288  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

carse  of  Stirling,  where  I  refused  the  crown  whicb  hvv 
accuser  alleges  I  would  yet  obtain  by  blood.  Let  theni 
remember  the  banks  of  the  Clyde,  where  I  rejected  the 
Scottish  throne  offered  me  by  Edward !  Let  these 
facts  bear  witness  for  me,  and  if  they  be  insufficient, 
look  on  Scotland  now  for  the  third  time  rescued  by  my 
arm  from  the  grasp  of  an  usurper  and  made  entirely 
free  ! — That  scroll  locks  the  door  of  the  kingdom  upon 
her  enemies.*'  As  he  spoke  he  threw  the  capitulation 
of  Berwick  upon  the  table.  It  seemed  to  strike  a 
pause  into  the  minds  of  the  lords ;  they  gazed  with  pal- 
lid countenances  and  without  a  word  on  the  parchment 
where  it  lay,  and  he  proceeded — "  If  my  actions  that 
you  know,  do  not  convince  you  of  my  integrity,  then 
believe  the  unsupported  evidence  of  words,  the  tale  of 
a  woman  whose  mystery,  were  it  not  for  the  memory  of 
the  honourable  man  whose  name  she  once  bore,  I  would 
publicly  unravel  : — Believe  her ;  and  leave  Wallace 
nought  of  his  country  to  remember,  but  that  he  has 
served  it,  and  that  it  is  unjust  \'^ 

"  Noblest  of  Scots  ?"  cried  Loch-awe,  coming  to- 
wards him,  "  did  your  accuser  come  in  the  shape  of  an 
angel  of  light,  still  v/e  should  believe  your  life  in  pre- 
ference to  her  testimony,  for  God  himself  speaks  on 
your  side  :  iV/z/  servants^  he  declares,  ye  shall  knoiv  by 
their  fruits  !  And  has  not  yours  been  peace  to  Scotland, 
and  good  will  to  all  men  1"  "  They  are  the  labyrinthian 
folds  of  his  hypocrisy  !"  cried  Athol,  alarmed  at  the 
awe-struck  looks  of  most  of  the  assembly.  "  They  are 
the  bates  by  which  he  cheats  fools  !"  re-echoed  Sou- 
iis.  *^  They  are  snares  v/hich  shall  catch  us  no  more J'^ 
was  now  the  general  exclamation  ;  and  in  proportion  to 
the  transitory  respect  which  had  made  them  bow  though 
but  for  a  moment  to  virtue, — they  now  vociferated 
their  contempt  both  of  Wallace  and  this  his  last  achiev- 
znent.  Kirkpatrick  inflamed  with  rage,  first  at  the 
manifest  determination  to  misjudge  his  commander, 
and  then  at  the  contumely  with  which  their  envy  af- 
fected to  -treat  him,  threw  off  all  restraint  and  with 
the  bitterness  of  his  reproaches  still  more  incensed 
the  jealousy  oi  the  nobles  and  augmented  the  tumult. 
i.enno3^yainly  attempted  to  mftke  himself  heard,  drew 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  2§9 

tovvardb  Wallace,  hophit^by  that  movement,  at  least  to 
shew  on  whose  side  he  thought  justice  lay.  At  this 
moment,  while  the  uproar  raged  with  redoubled  cla- 
mour demanding  that  sentence  should  instantly  be  pas- 
sed upon  the  traitor,  the  door  burst  open  and  Bothwell., 
covered  with  dust  and  followed  by  a  throng  of  armed 
knights,  rushed  into  the  centre  of  the  hall. 

"  Who  is  it  you  arraign  ?"  cried  the  young  chief, 
looking  indignantly  around  him; "  Is  it  notyour  deliver- 
er you  would  destroy.  The  Romans  could  not  pass  sen- 
tence on  the  guilty  Manilius  in  sight  of  the  capital  he 
had  preserved  ;  but  you,  worse  than  heathens,  bring 
your  benefactor  to  the  scene  of  his  victories,  and  there 
condemn  him  for  serving  you  too  well !  Has  he  not 
plucked  you  this  third  time  out  of  the  furnace  that 
would  have  consumed  you  ?  And  yet  in  this  hour  you 
-would  sacrifice  him  to  the  disappointed  passions  of  a 
a  woman  1  Falsest  of  thy  sex  1"  cried  he,  turning  to 
the  dismayed  Countess,  who,  before  seated  in  antici- 
pated triumph,  now  shrunk  before  the  penetrating  eyes 
of  Andrew  IVlurray  : — "  Do  1  not  know  thee  ?  Have  I 
not  read  thine  unfeminine,  thy  vindictive  heart  ?  You 
would  destroy  the  man  you  could  not  seduce  !  Wal- 
lace !"  cried  he,  "  speak  ;  w  ould  not  this  woman  have 
persuaded  thee  to  disgrace  the  name  of  Mar?  and  whep 
my  uncle  died,  did  she  not  urge  you  to  intrigue  for  that 
crown  wdiich  she  knew  you  had  so  loyally  declined  ?" 
"  My  errand  here,"  answered  Wallace,  "  is  to  defend 
<•  myself  not  to  accuse  others.  I  have  shewn  that  I  am 
innocent,  and  my  judges  will  not  look  on  the  pi'oofs. 
They  obey  not  the  laws  in  their  judgment,  and  what- 
ever may  be  the  decree,  I  shall  not  acknowledge  its  au- 
thority." As  he  spoke  he  turned  away  and  v/alked  with 
a  firm  step  out  of  the  hall. 

His  disappearance  gave  the  signal  for  a  tumult  more 

,  threatening  to  the  welfare  of  the   state  than  if  the  ar= 

:  mies  of  Edward  had  been  in  the  midst  of  them.     It 

;  was  brother  against  brother,  and  friend  against  friend. 

The   Lords    Lennox    and    Loch-awe    were   vehement 

against  the  unfairness  with  which  Sir  William  Wallace 

:  had  been  treated.     Kirkpatrick  declared  that  no  argu- 

ments  could  be  used  with  men  so  devoid  of  reason; 

VOL.   II.  RE 


290  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

and  words  of  reproach  and  reviling  passing  beivyeea 
him  and  Athol  and  others,  swords  were  at  last  drawn. 
And  while  Bothwell  was  loudly  denouncing  the  Re-, 
g^nt  for  having  allowed  any  examination  to  be  put  up- 
on the  ever  faithful  champion  of  Scotland,  Lady  Stra- 
thearn  seeing  herself  neglected,  and  fearful  that  the 
party  of  Wallace  might  at  last  gain  the  ascendency,' 
fainted  away  and  was  carried  out  of  the  assembly. 


CHAP.  XXVI. 

X  HE  Regent,  having  with  difficulty  interrupted  the 
fierce  attack  which  the  enemies  and  friends  of  Wal- 
lace made  on  each  other,  saw  with  satisfaction  (al- 
though several  of  the  Cummins  were  maimed, and 
Lord  Athol  himself  severely  wounded  by  Kirkpatrick) 
that  none  were  mortally  hurt.  With  horrid  menaces 
the  two  parties  separated,  the  one  to  the  Regent's 
apartments,  the  other  to  the  camp  of  Wallace. 

Lord  Bothwell  found  his  friend  on  the  platform  be- 
fore his  tent,  trying  to  allay  the  storm  which  was  rag- 
ing in  the  bosoms  of  his  followers  against  the  injustice 
of  the  Regent  and  the  ingratitude  of  the  Scottish  lords. 
At  sight  of  Lord  Bothwell  their  clamour  to  be  led  in- 
stantly to  revenge  the  indignity  offered  to  their  g,ene- 
ralj  redoubled,  and  Murray,  not  less  incensed,  turn- 
ing to  them,  said,  "  My  friends,  keep  quiet  for  a  few 
hours  and  then  what  honour  commands  we  will  do '" 
At  this  assurance  they  retired  to  their  quarters,  an4 
Bothwell  entered  with  Wallace  and  Edwin  into  the 
tent. 

"  Before  you  utter  a  word  concerning  th.o  present 
scenes,'*  cried  Wallace,  "  tell  me  how  is  the  hope  of 
Scotland,  the  only  earthly  stiller  of  these  horrid  tu- 
mults r"  ''  He  is  ill,"  replied  Bothwell,  ^'  after  regain-j 
ing,  by  a  valour  worthy  of  his  destiny,  every  fortressj 
north  of  the  Forth.  As  his  last  and  greatest  achieve- 
ment, he  made  himself  master  of  Scone  ;  but  in 
storminf*  its  walls  he  received  another  wound  on  his 
Ive^.d,  aiSi  th.Miext  day  w?.s  attacked  by  so  virulent  a 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  29 i 

fe'ver  that  he  now  lies  at  Hunting-tower  reduced  to  in- 
fant weakness.  All  this  you  would  have  known  had 
you  received  his  letters ;  but  doubtless;  villany  has 
been  here  too,  for  none  of  yours  have  reached  his 
hands."  This  intelligence  of  Bruce  was  a  more  mor- 
tal blow  to  Wallace  than  all  that  he  had  just  sustained 
in  his  own  person.  He  remained  silent,  but  his  mind 
'was  thronged  with  thoughts. — Was  Scotland  to  be  in- 
deed lostf  Was  all  that  he  had  suffered  and  achieved, 
to  have  been  done  in  vain  ;  and  should  he  now  be  fatud 
to  behold  her  again  made  a  sacrifice  to  the  jealousy  of 
her  contending  nobles  ?  Bothwell  continued  to  speak, 
and  told  him  that  in  consequence  of  their  prince's  anx- 
iety to  know  how  the  siege  of  Berv/ick  proceeded,  (for 
still  no  letters  arrived  from  that  quarter,)  he  had  set  off 
on  his  return.  At  Dumfermling  he  was  informed  of  the 
charge  made  against  Wallace,  and  turning  his  steps 
westward,  he  hastened  to  give  that  support  to  his 
friend's  innocence  which  the  malignity  of  his  enemies 
might  render  neqessary.  "  The  moment  I  heard  how 
you  were  beset,''  continued  Bothv/ell,  "I  dispatched  a 
man  back  to  J^ord  Ruthven  to  tell  him  not  to  alarm 
Bruce  with  such  tidings,  but  to  bring  all  the  forces 
v/hich  were  now  useless  in  Perthshire,  to  maintain  your 
honour  and  rights."  "No  force,  my  dear  Bcthwell, 
must  be  used  to  hold  me  in  a  power  whicii  >viH  only 
Keep  alive  a  spirit  of  discord  in  my  country.  If  I  dnrc 
apply  the  words  of  my  Divine  Master,  I  would  say,  I 
came  not  to  bring  a  s^ivord^  but  peace  to  the  fieople  cj 
Scotland  1  Then,  if  they  are  weary  of  me,  let  me  go. 
Bruce  v/ill  recover;  they  will  rally  round  liis  standard., 
and  all  will  be  v/ell."  "  Oh,  Wallace  I  Wallace  1"  cried 
Bothwell,  "the  scene  I  have  this  day  witnessed  is 
enough  to  make  a  traitor  of  me.  I  could  forswear  my 
insensible  country;  I  could  immolate  its  ungrateful 
chieftans  on  those  very  lands  which  your  generous  ariy?. 
restored  to  these  worthless  men  1"  He  threw  himse::: 
into  a  seat  and  leaned  his  burning  forehead  against  liis 
hand. — "  Cousin  you  declare  my  sentiments,"  rejoined 
Edwin  ;  "my  soul  can  never  again  associate  with  these 
sons  of  Envy.  I  cannot  recognise  a  countryman  in  one  of 
the^n ;  and  should  Sir  Vv^illiam  Wallace  quit  a  Irad  so 


292  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

imworthy  of  his  virtues,  where  he  g-oes,  I  will  go  ; 
his  asylum  shall  be  my  country,  and  Edwin  Ruthven 
will  forget  that  he  ever  was  a  Scot."  "  Never,"  cried 
Wallace  turning  on  him  one  of  those  looks  which  struck  * 
•^onviction  into  the  heart ;  "  Is  man  more  just  than 
God  P  Though  a  thousand  of  your  countrymen  offend 
you  by  their  crimes,  yet  while  their  remains  one  ho- 
nest Scot,  for  his  sake  and  his  posterity  it  is  your  du- 
ty to  be  a  patriot.  A  nation  is  one  great  family  ;  and 
every  individual  in  it  is  as  much  bound  to  promate  the 
general  good,  as  a  son  or  a  father  is  to  maintain  the  wel- 
fare of  his  nearest  kindred.  And  if  the  transgression 
of  one  brother  be  no  excuse  for  the  omission  of  anoth- 
er, in  like  manner,  the  ruin  these  turbulent  lords  would- 
bring  upon  Scotland,  is  no  excuse  for  your  desertion 
of  its  interest.  I  would  not  leave  the  helm  of  my 
country  did  she  not  thrust  me  from  it ;  but,  though 
f  ast  by  her  into  the  waves,  would  you  not  blush  for 
your  friend,  should  he  wish  her  aught  else  than  a  peace- 
ful haven."  Edwin  spoke  not,  but  putting  the  hand 
of  Wallace  to  his  lips,  left  the  tent.  "  Oh  1"  cried 
Hothv.'cll,  looking  after  him,  "  that  the  breast  of  wo- 
man had  but  half  that  boy's  tenderness  !  And  yet,  all 
of  that  dangerous  sex  are  not  like  this  hyena-hearted 
Lady  Strathearn.  Tell  mc,  my  friend,  did  she  not, 
when  she  disappeared  so  strEingely  from  Hunting-tov/- 
c.r,  fly  to  you  ?  I  now  suspect,  froui  certain  remem- 
lirances,  that  she  and  the  Green  Knight  are  one  and 
the  same  person.  Acknowledge  it,  and  I  will  unveil 
Jier  at  once  to  the  court  she  has  deceived."  "  She  has 
deceived  no  one,"  replied  Wallace,  "  before  she  spoke 
I  he  members  of  the  court  were  determined  to  braiid 
me  with  guilt;  and  her  chorge  merely  supplied  the 
place  of  others,  which,  wanting  that,  they  would  have 
devised  against  me.  Whatever  she  may  be,  my  dear 
Both  well,  for  the  §ake  of  him  whose  name  she  once 
wore,  let  us  not  expose  her  to  open  shame.  Her  love 
or  her  hatred  are  alike  indifferent  to  m.e  now ;  for  to  ' 
neither  of  them  do  I  owe  that  innate  malice  of  my  | 
countrymen  v.'hich  has  only  made  her  calumny  the  oc-  | 
casion  of  manifesting  their  resolution  to  make  me  in- 
famous.    But  ^hat,  my  friend,  is  beyond  their  com* 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  293 

pass.—- 1  have  done  my  duty  to  Scotland;  and  that  con- 
viction must  live  in  every  honest  heart;  aye,  and  ^vith 
the  dishonest  too :  for  did  they  not  fear  my  integrity 
they  would  not  have  thought  it  necessary  to  deprit'c 
me  of  my  pf)v/er.     May  heaven  shield  Bruce,  for  I 
dread  that   Badenoch's   next  shaft  may  be  at  him  1" 
"  No,"  cried  Bothwell,   "  all  is   levelled   at  his   best 
friend.     In  a  low  voice  I  accused  the  Regent  of  disloy- 
alty to  his  prince  in  permitting  this  outrage  on  you, 
and  his  basely  envious  answer  was:    Wallace's  removal 
is  Bruce^s  security  :    Who  ivill  acknoivledge  him    nvhen 
they   know   that,  this    man    is    his   dictator  ?"  Wallace 
sighed  at  this  reply  ;  but  it  confirmed  him  in  his  reso- 
lution, and  he  told  Bothwell  that  he  saw  no  alterna- 
tive, if  he  wished  to  still  the  agitations  of  his  country 
and  to  preserve  its  prince  from  premature  discovery, 
than  for  him  indeed  to  remove  the  subject  of  all  those 
contentions  from  their  sight.     "  Attempt  it  not  1"  ex- 
claimed Bothwell,  "  propose  but  a  step  towards  that 
end,  and  you  will  determine  me  to  avenge  my  country 
at  the  peril  of  my  own  life  on  all  that  accursed  assem- 
bly who  have  menaced  yours  1"'  In  short,   the  young 
earl's  denunciations  were  so  vehement  and  in  earnest 
against  the  lords  in  Stirling  that  Wallace  thought  it 
dangerous   to  exasperate   him  farther,  and    therefore 
consented  to  remam  in  his   camp  tiii  the  arrival  of, 
Ruthven  should  bi/ing  him  the  advantage  of  his  coun- 
sel. 

The  issue  shewed  that  Bothwell  was  not  mistaken^ 
The  majority  of  the  Scottish  nobles  envied  Wallace  his 
glory,  and  hated  him  for  those  virtues  which  drew  the 
eyes  of  the  people  to  compare  him  with  their  vicious 
courses.  The  Regent,  hoping  to  become  the  first  in 
Bruce's  favour,  was  not  less  urgent  to  ruin  the  man  v/ho 
was  at  present  the  highest  in  that  prince's  esteem.  He 
had  therefore  entered  warmly  into  the  project  of  Lady 
Strathearn ;  but  when,  during  a  secret  conference  be- 
tween them  previous  to  her  open  charge  of  Wallace^ 
bhe  named  Sir  Thomas- de  Longueville  as  one  of  his  fo- 
reign emissaries.  Cummin  replied,  "  If  you  would  have 
your  accusation  succeed,  do  not  nam.e  that  knight  at  alL 
He  is  my  friend.     He  is  now  ill  near  Pci'J).  and  mi:..:- 

FB  2 


294  TPIE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

know  nothing  of  this  affair  till  it  is  over.  Should  he 
live,  he  will  nobly  thank  you  for  your  forbearance ; 
should  he  die,  I  will  repay  you  as  becomes  your  near- 
est kinsman.*'  All  were  thus  united  in  the  effort  to 
hurl  Wallace  from  his  station  in  the  state. — -And  that, 
they  believed  done,  they  quarrelled  amongst  them- 
selves in  deciding  who  was  to  fill  the  great  military 
office  which  his  prowess  had  rendered  a  post  rather  of 
honour  than  of  danger. 

In  the  midst  of  these  feuds  Sir  Simon  Fraser  ap- 
peared suddenly  in  the  council-hall.  His  counte- 
nance proclaimed  that  he  brought  bad  tidings.  Len- 
nox and  Loch-awe  (who  duly  attended  in  hopes  of 
bringing  over  some  of  the  more  pliable  chiefs  to  em- 
brace the  cause  of  Wallace,)  listened  with  something 
like  exultation  to  his  disastrous  information.  As  soon 
a&  the  English  governor  had  gained  intelligence  of  the 
removal  of  Wallace  from  the  command  at  Berwick,  and 
of  the  consequent  consternation  of  the  troops,  instead 
of  surrendering  at  sun-set  as  was  expected,  he  sallied 
out  at  the  head  of  the  whole  garrison,  and  taking  the 
Scottish  troops  by  surprise,  gave  them  a  total  defeat. 
Every  out-post  around  the  town  was  re-taken  by  the 
Southrons  ;  the  army  of  Fraser  was  cut  to  pieces,  or 
put  to  flight ;  and  himself  now  arrived  in  Stirling, 
smarting  with  many  a  wound,  but  more  under  his  dis- 
honour, to  shew  to  the  Regent  of  Scotland  the  evil  of 
having  superseded  the  only  man  whom  the  enemy 
ieared.  The  council  stood  in  silence  staring  on  eacli 
other :  and  to  add  to  their  dismay,  Fraser  had  hardly 
ended  his  narration,  before  a  messenger  from  Teviot- 
dale  arrived  in  breathless  haste  to  inform  the  Regent 
that  King  Edward  was  himself  within  a  few  miles  of 
the  Cheviots,  and  that  he  must  even  now  have  poured 
his  thousands  over  those  hills  upon  the  plains  beneath. 
While  all  was  indecision,  tumult,  and  alarm,  in  the  ci- 
tadel, Lenox  hastened  towards  Wallace's  camp  with 
*he  news. 

Levd  Ruthven  and  the  Perthshire  chieftains  were  aL 
ready  there.  They  had  arrived  early  in  the  morning 
■vith  most  unpromising  tidings  of  Bruce.  The  state 
<}:  ivs  v/ound  had  induced  a  constant  delirium.— -But 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  295 

still  Wallace  clung-  to  the  hope  that  his  country  was 
not  doomed  to  perish ;  that  its  prince's  recovery  was 
I  only  protracted.  In  the  midst  of  this  anxiety  Lennox 
entered,  and  relating*  what  he  had  just  heard,  turned 
the  whole  current  of  his  auditor's  ideas.  Wallace 
started  from  his  seat,  and  again  felt  that  he  had  yet 
longer  to  stay  in  Scotland.  His  hand  mechanically- 
caught  up  his  sword  which  lay  upon  the  tabic,  and 
looking  around  to  these  words  of  Lennox  :  ''  There  is 
not  a  man  in  the  citadel  who  does  not  appear  at  his 
wit's  end,  and  incapable  of  facing  this  often-beaten  foe  ; 
will  you,  Wallace,  again  eondescend  to  save  a  country 
that  has  treated  you  so  ungratefully  V  "  I  would  die 
in  its  trenches  1"  cried  the  chief,  with  a  generous  for- 
giveness of  all  his  injuries  suffusing  his  magnanimous 
heart. 

Lord  Loch -awe  soon  after  appeared,  and  corroborat- 
ing the  testimony  of  Lennox,  added,  that  on  the  Re- 
gent sending  word  to  the  troops  on  the  south  of  Stir- 
ling that  in  consequence  of  the  treason  of  Sir  William 
Wallace  the  supreme  command  was  taken  from  him; 
and  as  they  were  now  called  upon  to  face  a  new  excur- 
sion of  the  enemy,  they  must  immediately  m.arch  un- 
der the  orders  of  Sir  Simon  Eraser,  they  began  to  mur- 
mur amongst  themselves  :  and  saying  that  since  Wal- 
lace was  found  a  traitor  they  knew  not  who  to  trust, 
but  that  certainly  it  should  not  be  a  beaten  general,  they 
slid  away  from  their  standards,  and  when  Loch-awe  left 
them,  were  dispersing  oi\  all  sides  like  an  already  dis- 
comfited army. 

For  a  day  or  two  the  paralyzed  terrors  of  the  peo- 
ple and  the  tumults  in  the  citadel  were  portentous  of 
immediate  ruin.  A  large  detachment  from  the  royal 
army  had  entered  Scotland  by  the  marine  gate  of  Ber- 
wick, and,  headed  by  De  Warenne,  was  advancing  ra- 
pidly towards  Edinburgh  Castle.  Not  a  soldier  be- 
longing to  the  regency  remained  on  the  carse;  and  the 
distant  chieftains  to  whom  he  sent  for  aid  refused  it, 
saying,  that  the  discovery  of  Wallace's  patriotism  hav- 
ing been  a  delusion,  had  made  them  suspect  all  men ;  and. 
that  locking  themselves  within  their  own  castles,  each 
true  Scot  would  there  securely  view  a  struggle  in  which 
they  could  feel  no  personal  interest. 


296  'THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Seeing  the  danger  of  the  realm,  and  hearing  from 
the  lords  Ruthven  and  Bothwcll  that  their  troops  would 
follow  no  other  leader  than  Sir  William  Wallace,  the 
Regent,  hopeless  of  any  prompt  decision  from  amongst 
the  confusion  of  his  council,  and  urged  by  time-serving 
Buchan,  yielded  a  tacit  assent  to  the  only  apparent 
means  of  saving  his  sinking  country.  He  turned  ashy^ 
pale  as  his  silence  granted  to  Lord  Loch-awe  the  ne- 
cessity of  imploring  Sir  William  Wallace  aga'-n  to 
stretch  out  his  arm  in  their  behalf.  With  this  embassy 
the  venerable  chieftain  returned  exulting  to  Balloch- 
geich  ;  and  the  so  lately  branded  Wallace,  branded  as 
the  intended  betrayer  of  Scotland,  was  solicited  by  his 
very  accusers  to  assume  the  trust  of  being  their  sole 
defence. 

"  Such  is  the  triumph  of  virtue  T"  whispered  Edwin, 
to  his  friend  as  he  vaulted  on  his  horse.  A  luminous 
smile  from  Wallace  acknowledged  that  he  felt  the  tri- 
bute, and  looking  up  to  heaven  ere  he  placed  his  helmet 
on  his  head,  he  said,  "  Thence  comes  my  power,  and 
the  satisfaction  it  brings,  whether  attended  by  man's  ap- 
plause or  his  blame,  he  cannot  take  from  me.  I  now, 
perhaps  for  the  last  time,  arm  this  head  for  Scotland: 
may  the  God  in  whom  I  trust  again  crown  it  with  vic- 
tory, and  for  ever  after  bind  the  brows  of  our  rightful 
sovereign  with  peace  I" 

While  Wallace  pursued  his  march,  the  Regent,  con- 
founded at  the  turn  which  events  had  taken,  and  hardly 
knowing  whether  to  niitke  another  essay  to  collect  for- 
r,es  for  the  support  of  their  former  leader,  or  to  follow 
the  refractory  councils  of  his  lords  and  await  in  inacti- 
vity the  issue  of  the  expected  battle,  was  quite  at  a 
stand.  He  knew  not  how  to  act :  but  a  letter  from 
Lady  Strath  earn  decided  him. 

Though  partly  triumphant  in  her  charges  yet  the  ac- 
cusations of  Bothv/ell  had  disconcerted  her;  and  the 
restoration  of  Wallace  to  his  undisputed  authority  in 
the  state,  seemed  to  her  so  probable,  that  she  resolved 
to  take  an  immediate  step  which  would  confirm  her  in- 
rhience  over  the  discontented  of  her  country  and  most 
likely  insure  the  vengeance  she  panted  to  bring  upon 
vVallacc'?  head.     To  this  end,  on  the  very  evening  that 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS/  29/ 

Mhe  \vas  carried  swooning  from  the  conncil-hall,  she  set 
forward  to  the  Borders ;  and  easily  passing  thence  to 
the  Englisli  camp  (then  pitched  at  Alnwick,)  was  soon 
admitted  to  the  castle  where  De  Warenne  was  lodged. 
She  was  too  well  taught  in  the  school  of  vanity  not  to 
have  remarked  the  admiration  with  which  that  earl  had 
regarded  her  while  he  was  a  prisoner  in  Stirling;  and 
hoping  that  he  might  not  he  able  to  withstand  the  per- 
suasions  of  her  charms  when  united  with  rank  and  rich- 
es, she  opened  her  mission  to  hini  with  no  less  art  thaa 
effect.     De  Warenne  understood  from  her  that  Wal- 
lace, on  the  strength  of  a  passion  he  had  conceived  for 
her  and  which  she  treated  with  disdain.,  had  repented  of 
his  former  refusals  of  the  crown  of  Scotland  ;  and  was 
now  attempting  to  compass  that  dignity  by  the  most 
complicated  intrigues,  und^r  a  belief  that  she  would  not 
repeat  her  rejection  of  his  hand  v/hen  it  could  offer  her 
a  sceptre.     She  then  related  how,  at  her  instigation,  the 
Regent  had  deposed  hirn  from  his  military  command; 
and  she  ended  with  saying,  that  impelled  by  loyalty  to 
Edward  (whom  her  better  reason  now  recognised  as  the 
lawful  sovereign  of  her  country,)  she  had  come  to  ex- 
hort that  monarch  immediately  to  renew  his  invasions 
into  the  kingdom.     De  Warenne,  intoxicated  with  her 
beauty  and  enraptured  by  a  manner  which  seemed  to 
tell  him  that  a  softer  sentiment  than  usual  had  made  her 
select  him  as  her  embassador  to  the  king,  greedily 
drank  in  all  her  words  ;  and  ere  he  allowed  the  confer- 
ence to  breakup,  he  had  thrown  himself  at  her  feet  and 
implored  her,  by  every  impassioned  argument,  to  grant 
him  the  privilege  of  presenting  her  to  Edward  as  his 
intended  bride.     De  Warenne  v/as  in  the  meridian  of 
life;  and  being  fraught  with  a  power  at  court)  beyond 
all  other  of  his  peers,  she  determined  to  accept  his  hand 
and  wield  her  new  influence  to  the  destruction  of  Wal- 
lace, should  she  even  be  compelled  in  that  act  to  pre- 
cipitate her  country  in  his  fall.  De  Warenne  drew  from 
her  a  half-reluctant  consent :  and  v/hile  he  poured  forth 
the  transports  of  a  happy  lover,  he  internally  congratu- 
lated himself  on  his  good  fortune.     He  was  not  so  much' 
enamoured  of  the  fine  person  of  Lady  Strathearn,  as  to 
be  altogether  inseHsible  to  the  advantages  which  his  al^ 


aas  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

liance  wHh  her  would  give  to  Edward  in  his  Scottbi!; 
pretensions  ;  and  as  it  would  consequently  increase  his 
own  importance  with  that  monarch,  he  lost  no  time  in 
communicating  the  circumstance  to  him.  Edward,  who 
suspected  something  in  this  sudden  attachment  of  the 
Countess  which,  if  known,  might  cool  the  ardour  of  his 
officer  for  uniting  so  useful  an  agent  to  his  cause,  highly 
approved  De  Wurcnne's  conduct  in  the  affair;  and  to 
hasten  the  nuptials,  proposed  being  present  at  their  so- 
lemnization that  very  evening.  The  vows  which  Lady 
Strathearn  pledged  at  the  altar  to  De  Warenne,  were 
pronounced  by  her  as  those  by  which  she  swore  to  com- 
plete her  revenge  on  Wallace,  and  by  depriving  him  of 
life  prevent  the  climax  to  her  misery  of  seeing  him 
(what  she  believed  he  intended)  the  husband  of  Helen 
Mar.  The  day  after  she  became  De  Warenne's  wife  (s) 
she  accompanied  him,  attended  by  a  retinue,  corres- 
pondent to  his  rank  as  Lord  Warden  of  Scotland,  by  sea 
to  Berwick  ;  and  from  that  place  she  dispatched  mes- 
sengers to  the  Regent  and  other  nobles  her  kinsmen, 
fraught  with  promises  which  Edward,  in  the  event  of 
success,  had  solemnly  pledged  himself  to  ratify.  Her 
embassador  arrrived  at  Stirling  the  day  succeeding  that 
in  which  Wallace  and  his  troops  left  it.  The  letters  he 
brought  were  eagerly  opened  by  Badenoch  and  his 
chieftains,  and  they  found  their  contents  to  this  effect. 
She  announced  to  them  her  marriage  with  the  Lord 
Warden,  who  was  then  at  the  head  of  a  mighty  force 
determined  on  the  subjugation  of  the  country ;  and 
therefore  besought  the  Regent  and  lus  council  not  to 
raise  a  hostile  arm  against  him,  if  they  would,  not  mere- 
ly escape  the  indignation  of  a  great  king,  but  ensure  his 
favour.  She  cast  out  hints  to  Badenoch,  as  if  Edw^^^'d 
meant  to  rev/ard  his  acquiescence  with  the  crown  of 
ScotUnd  ;  and  with  siiiiilar  baits,  proportioned  to  the 
views  c;f  all  her  other  kinsmen,  she  smoothed  their  an- 
ger against  that  m.onarch's  former  insults,and  persuaded 
^hem  at  least  to  remain  inactive  during  the  last  struggle 
of  their  country 

Meanwhile,  Wallace,  taking  his  course  along  the 
banks  of  the  Forth,  as  the  night  drew  near  encamped 
his  little  aiDiv  at  the  base  of  the  craiQ:5  east   of  Edin- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS,  299 

burgh  Castle.  His  march  having  been  long  and  rapid 
the  men  were  much  fatigued,  and  now  were  hardly  laid 
upon  their  heather  beds  before  they  fell  asleep.  Wallace 
gained  information  from  his  scouts,  that  the  main  body 
of  the  Southrons  had  approached  v/ithin  a  few  miles  oi 
Dalkeith.  Thither  he  hoped  to  go  next  morning;  and 
there,  he  trusted,  strike  the  conclusive  blow  for  Scot- 
land by  the  destruction  of  a  division,  which  he  under- 
stood comprised  the  llower  of  the  English  army.  With 
these  expectations  he  gladly  saw  his  troops  turn  to  that 
repose  which  was  to  re -brace  their  strength  for  the 
combat;  and  as  the  hours  of  r.ight  stole  on,  while  his 
possessed  mind  waked  for  all  around,  he  was  well-plea- 
sed to  see  his  ever-watchful  Edwin  sink  back  into  a 
profound  sleep. 

It  was  his  custom,  once  at  kast  in  the  night,  to  go 
himself  the  rounds  of  his  posts  to  see  that  all  was  safe. 
The  air  was  serene,  and  he  walke-d  out  on  this  duty.— 
He  passed  from  line  to  line,  from  station  to  station,  and 
all  was  in  order.  One  post  alone  remained  to  be  visited, 
and  that  was  placed  as  a  point  of  observaticm  on  the 
craigs  near  Arthur's  seat.  As  he  proceeded  along  a 
lonely  defile  between  the  rocks  which  over-hang  the 
ascent  of  the  mountain,  he  was  startled  by  the  indistinct 
sight  of  a  figure  amongst  the  rolling  vapours  of  the 
night,  seated  on  a  towering  cliff  directly  in  the  way  he 
was  to  go.  The  broad  light  of  the  moon  breaking  from 
beJiind  the  clouds  shone  full  upon  the  spot,  and  disco- 
vered a  majestic  form  in  grey  robes,  leaning  on  a  harp, 
while  his  face  mournfully  gazing  upward,  was  rendered 
venerable  by  a  long  white  beard  that  mingled  with  the 
floating  mist.  Wallace  paused,  and  stopping  at  some 
distance  from  this  extraordinary  apparition,  looked  on 
it  in  silence.  The  strings  of  the  harp  were  softly 
touched;  but  it  was  only  the  sighing  of  a  passing  breeze 
which  had  agitated  them.  The  vibration  ceased,  and 
the  next  moment  the  hand  of  the  master  struck  their 
chords  with  so  full  and  melancholy  a  sound  that  Wal- 
lace was  for  a  few  minutes  riveted  to  the  ground  ;  and 
then  moving  forward  with  a  stilly  step,  that  he  might 
not  disturb  the  nocturnal  bard,  he  gently  approached. 
At  sight  of  him  the  harp  seemed  to  fall  from  before  the- 


mo  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS, 

venerable  figure,  and  clasping  his  hands,  in  a  voice  of 
mournful  solemnity  he  exclaimed,  "  Art  thou  come, 
doomed  of  heaven,  to  hear  thy  sad  Coronach  ?''  Wallace 
started  at  this  salutation.  The  bard  with  the  same  emo- 
tion continued ;  "  No  choi-al  hymns  hallow  thy  bleeding 
corse ; — wolves  howl  thy  requiem,  and  eagles  scream 
over  thy  desolate  grave ;  fly,  chieftain,  fly  1"  "  What, 
venerable  father  of  the  harp,"  cried  Wallace,  interrup- 
ting the  awful  pause,  "  thus  addresses  one  whom  he 
must  mistake  for  some  other  chief  ?"  "  Can  the  spirit  of 

inspiration  mistake  its  object  ?"  demanded  the  bard 

'^  Can  he  whose  eyes  have  been  opened  by  the  touch  of 
fate,  be  blind  to  Sir  William  Wallace,  or  to  the  blood 
which  clogs  his  mounting  footsteps  ?"  "  And  who  am  I 
to  understand  that  you  are  ?"  replied  Wallace.  "  Who 
is  the  saint  whose  holy  charity  would  anticipate  the  ob- 
sequies of  a  man  who  yet  may  be  destined  to  a  long  pil- 
grimage ?"  "  Who  I  am,*'  resumed  the  bard,  "  will  be 
shewn  to  thee  when  thou  hast  past  yon  starry  firma- 
ment. But  the  galaxy  streams  with  blood — the  bugle 
of  death  is  alone  heard,  and  thy  lacerated  breast  heaves 
in  vain  against  the  hoofs  of  opposing  squadrons.  They 
charge — Scotland  falls  1  Look  not  on  me  thus,  champion 
of  thy  country  I  Sold  by  thy  enemies,  betrayed  by  thy 
friends  !  It  was  not  the  seer  of  St.  Anton  who  gave  thee 
these  wounds — that  heart's  blood  was  not  drawn  by  mfe 
—a  v/oman's  hand  in  mail — ten  thousand  armed  warri- 
ors strike  deep  the  mortal  steel — he  sinks — he  ftdls  : 
Red  is  the  blood  of  Eske  ! — Thy  vital  stream  hath  dyed 
it.  Fly,  bravest  of  the  brave,  or  perish !"  With  a  shriek 
■of  horror,  and  throwing  his  aged  arms  extended  towards 
the  heavens  while  bis  grey  beard  mingled  in  the  rising 
blast,  he  rushed  from  the  sight  of  Wallace,  and  left  him 
in  awful  solitude. 

For  a  few  minutes  he  stood  in  profound  silence.  His 
very  soul  seemed  deprived  of  the  power  to  answer  so 
ten'ible  adenuncicition  with  even  a  questioning  thought. 
He  had  heard  the  destruction  of  Scotland  declared; 
and  himself  sentenced  to  perish,  if  he  did  not  escape 
the  general  ruin  by  flying  ii-om  her  side  I  This  terri- 
ble decree  of  fate,  so  di^astcrously  corrobarated  by  the 
extremity  of  Bruce  aud  the  diviiiions  in  the  kingdonv- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  30i 

had  been  pronounced  by  one  of  those  sages  oj,  his 
country  on  whom  the  spirit  of  prophecy  yet  descended 
with  all  the  horrors  of  a  woe-denouncing  trumpet. 
Could  he  then  doubt  its  truth  ?  He  did  not  doubt ;  he 
believed  the  midnight  voice  he  had  heard.  But  recovering 
from  the  first  shock  of  such  a  doom,  and  remembering 
that  it  still  left  the  choice  to  himself  between  dishon- 
oured life  and  glorious  death,  he  resolves  to  shew  his 
respect  to  the  oracle,  by  manifesting  a  persevering 
obedience  to  the  eternal  voice  which  gives  all  these  his 
agents  utterance  ;  and  while  he  bows  to  tlie  warning,  he 
starts  forward  to  be  the  last  who  shall  fall  from  the  side 
of  his  devoted  country.  "  If  devoted,"  cried  he,  "  then 
our  fates  shall  be  the  same.  My  fall  from  thee  shall 
be  into  my  grave.  Scotland  may  have  struck  the  breast 
that  has  shielded  her,  yet,  Father  of  Mercies,  forgive 
her  blindness ;  and  grant  me  still  permission,  a  little 
longer  to  oppose  my  heart  between  her  and  this  fearfui 
doom!"  (^) 


CHAP.  XXVII. 

A  WED,  but  not  intimidated,  by  the  prophecy  of  the 
seer  of  the  craigs,  Wallace  next  day  drew  up  his  army 
in  order  for  the  new  battle,  near  a  convent  of  Cistertian 
monks  on  the  narrow  plain  of  Dalkeith.  The  two  ri- 
vers Eske  flowed  on  each  side  of  his  little  phalanx,  and 
formed  a  temporary  barrier  between  it  and  the  pressing 
legions  of  De  Warenne.  The  earl's  troops  seemed 
countless.  And  the  Southron  lords  who  led  them  on, 
being  elated  by  the  representations  which  the  Countess 
had  given  them  of  the  disunited  state  of  the  Scottish 
army,  and  of  the  consequent  dismay  which  had  seized 
their  hitherto  all-conquering  commander,  bore  down 
upon  the  Scots  vv'ith  an  impetuosity  which  threatened  a 
destruction  without  quarter,  without  even  allowing  the 
enemy  a  moment  for  resistance.  De  Warenne,  who, 
deceived  by  the  blandishing  falsehoods  of  his  bride, 
had  entirely  changed  his  former  high  opin^n  of  his 
brave  opponent  j  and  by  her  sophistries  had  brought  hif 

VOL.  II.  CC 


302  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

rwind  to  adopt  stratagems  unworthy;  of  his  i^obleness, 
(so  contagious  is  baseness  in  too  fond  a  contact  with  the 
unprincipled  1)  placed  himself  on  an  adjoining  height ; 
from  that  situation,  intending  to  give  his  orders,  and  to 
behold  his  anticipated  victory.  "  Soldiers  !"  cried  he, 
as  he  gave  the  word  of  command,  "  the  rebel's  hour  is 
come. — The  sentence  of  heaven  is  gone  forth  against 
him.  Charge  resolutely,  and  he  and  his  host  are 
yours !" 

But  it  was  not  decreed  so:  the  prophet  who  had 
spoken  was  that  of  Baal,  not  of  Jehovah.  He  had  been 
the  hireling  of  Lady  Strathcarn,  to  intimidate  the  in- 
vincible adversary  af  her  husband,  the  determined  vic- 
tim of  her  revenge.  Knowing  his  customs,  and  hav- 
ing a  spy  on  his  steps,  she  easily  accomplished  this  de- 
vice. Her  emissary  played  his  part  well ;  he  saw  by 
the  manner  of  the  chieftain  that  he  was  believed:  and 
when  he  rejoined  Lady  Strathearn,  in  a  firmer  tone  of 
prescience  he  saluted  her  as  the  guardian  angel  of  the 
Southron  army,  and  declared  that  her  wisdom  had  al- 
ready delivered  the  Scottish  phalanx  and  its  leader  into 
the  hands  of  her  husband.  As  a  victor,  then,  De 
Warenne  mounted  the  hill ;  as  a  queen  in  triumph,  the 
Countess  took  her  station  by  his  side. 

The  sky  was  obscured :  an  awful  stillness  reigned 
through  the  air,  and  the  spirits  of  the  mighty  dead 
seem.ed  leaning  from  their  clouds,  to  witness  this  last 
struggle  of  their  sons.  Fate  did  indeed  hover  over  the 
opposing  armies :  she  descended  on  the  head  of  Wal- 
lace, and  dictated  from  amidst  his  waving  plumes. 
She  pointed  his  spear,  she  wielded  his  flaming  sword, 
and  charged  with  him  in  the  dreadful  shock  of  battle. 
De  Warenne  saw  his  foremost  thousands  fall.  He 
heard  the  shout  of  the  Scots,  the  cries  of  his  men,  and 
the  plains  of  Stirling  rose  to  his  remtmibrance.  He 
hastily  ordered  the  knights  around  him  to  bear  away 
his  wife  from  the  field;  and  descending  the  hill  to  lead 
forward  himself,  he  was  met  and  almost  overwhelmed 
by  his  flying  troops  :  horses  without  riders,  men  with- 
out shield  or  sword,  but  all  in  dismay,  rushed  past  him. 
He  called  to  them,  he  waved  the  royal  standard,  he 
urged,  he  reproached;  he  rallied,  and  led  them  back 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS;  30;: 

again.     The  fight  re-cominenced Long  and  bloody 

was  the  conflict.    De  Warenne  fought  for  conquest  and* 
to  recover  a  lost  reputation.    Wallace  contended  for  his 
country,  and  to  shew  hiiTi self  always  worthy  of  her  lat- 
est sigh,  before  lie  should  g-o  henccy  and  be  no  viore  seen  ! 

The  issue  declared  for  Scotland.  But  the  ground 
was  covered  v»ith  the  slain  ;  and  "Wallace  chased  a 
wounded  foe  with  troops  which  dropped  as  they  pur- 
sued. At  sight  of  the  melancholy  state  of  his  victorious 
and  faithful  soldiers,  he  tried  to  check  their  ardour,  but 
in  vain.  "  It  is  for  Wallace  that  we  conquer !"  cried 
they,  ''  and  we  v.-ili  die,  or  prove  him  the  only  captaia 
in  tins  ungrateful  country.'* 

Night  compelled  them  to  halt ;  and  under  her  shades, 
while  they  }'et  only  rested  on  their  arms,  Wallace^ 
satisfied  that  he  had  destroyed  the  power  of  De 
Warenne,  forbore  to  press  too  hard  upon  its  remnant ; 
and  as  he  leaned  on  his  sword,  and  stood  v/ith  Edwin 
near  the  watch  fire  over  v/hich  that  youthful  hero  kept 
a  guard,  he  contemplated  the  terrified  Southrons  as 
they  fled  precipitately,  though  cautiously,  by  the  foot 
of  the  hill  towards  the  Tvv'eed.  Wallace  now  told  his 
friend  theliistory  of  his  adventure  with  the  seer  of  the 
craigs ;  and  finding  within  himself  how  much  the 
brightness  of  true  religion  excludes  the  glooms  of 
superstition,  he  added  :  "  The  proof  of  prophecy  is  its 
completion  I — Hence  let  the  false  seer  I  met  last  night, 
warn  you,  my  Edwin,  by  my  example,  liov/  you  give 
credit  to  any  prediction  that  might  slacken  the  sinev/s 
of  duty.  God  can  speak  but  one  language.  He  is  not 
a  man,  that  he  should  repent ;  r.either  a  mortal,  that  he 
should  change  his  purpose  ! — This  pretended  prophet 
beguiled  me  of  belief  in  his  denunciation,  but  not  to 
adopt  the  conduct  his  offered  alternative  would  have 
persuaded  me  to  pursue.  I  now  see  that  he  v/as  a 
traitor  in  both,  and  henceforth  shall  read  my  fate  in  the 
oracles  of  God  alone.  Obeying  them,  my  Edwin,  we 
need  not  fear  the  curses  of  our  enemy  nor  his  lying 
sooth-sayers." 

The  splendour  of  this  victory  struck  to  the  souls  of  the 
council  at  Stirling.  Scotland  being  once  again  rescued 
from  the  vengeance  of  her  implacable  foe,  the  lords  in 


504^  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

the  citadel  spurned  at  their  preservation,  and  declared 
to  the  Regent  that  they  would  rather  be  under  the  yoke 
of  the  veriest  tyrant  in  the  world  than  be  obliged  to 
owe  a  moment  of  freedom  to  the  man  who  (they 
affected  to  believe),  had  conspired  against  their  lives. 
And  they  had  a  weighty  reason  for  this  decision. — 
Though  De  Warenne  was  beaten,  his  wife  was  a  victor. 
She  had  made  Edward  triumphant  in  the  venal  hearts 
of  her  kinsmen  :  gold  and  her  persuasions,  with  pro- 
mises of  future  honours  from  the  King  of  England, 
made  them  entirely  his.  All  but  the  Regent  were 
ready  to  commit  every  thing  into  the  hands  of  Edward  : 
he  doubted. — The  rising  favour  of  other  lords  with  the 
court  of  England  induced  him  to  recollect  that  he 
might  rule  as  the  unrivalled  friend  of  Bruce,  should 
that  prince  live  j  or,  in  case  of  his  death,  might  he  not 
have  it  in  his  power  to  assume  the  Scottish  tlw'one  un- 
trammelled ?  These  thoughts  made  him  fluctuate,  and 
his  country  found  him  alike  undetermined  in  treason  as 
unstable  in  fidelity. 

Immediately  on  the  victory  at  Dalkeith,  Kirkpatrick 
(eager  to  be  the  first  communicator  of  such  welcome 
news  to  Lennox,  who  had  planted  himself  as  a  watch 
at  Stirling,)  v/ithdrew  secretly  from  Wallace's  camp; 
and  hoping  to  move  the  gratitude  of  the  refractory 
lords,  he  entered  at  once  mto  the  midst  of  their  coun- 
cil. He  proclaimed  the  success  of  his  comm.ander, 
and  his  answer  was  accusations  and  insult.  All  that 
had  been  charged  against  the  too  fortunate  Wallace, 
was  re -urged  v^/ith  added  acrimony.  Treachery  to  the 
&tate  5  hypocrisy  in  morals,  fanaticism  in  religion ;  no 
stigma  was  too  extravagant  or  contradictory  to  affix  to 
his  unsullied  name.  They  who  had  been  hurt  in  the 
fray  in  the  hall,  pointed  to  their  still  smarting  wounds, 
and  called  upon  Lennox  to  say  if  they  did  not  plead 
against  so  dangerous  a  man  ?  "  Dangerous  to  your 
crimes,  and  ruinous  to  your  ambitions  1"  cried  Kirk- 
patrick, "  For,  so  help  me  God,  as  I  believe  that  an 
honester  man  than  William  Wallace,  lives  not  in  Scot- 
land :  And  that  ye  know  : — and  his  virtues  overtop- 
ping your  littleness,  yc  would  uproot  the  greatness 
which  ye  cannot  equal  1"     This  speech?  which  a  burst 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  305 

of  indignation  had  wrested  from  him,  brought  down  ths 
wrath  of  the  whole  party  upon  himself.  Lord  Atiiol, 
yet  stung  with  his  old  wound,  furiously  struck  him  :— 
Kirkpatrick  drew  his  sword,  and  a  fight  commenced 
so  fiercely  between  the  combatants,  that,  gasping  with 
almost  the  last  breathings  of  life,  neither  could  be  torr^ 
from  their  desperate  revenge,  till  many  were  cut  in  at- 
tempting to  separate  them  ;  and  then  the  two  were  car- 
ried ovT  insensible,  and  covered  with  wounds. 

When  this  sad  news  v/as  transmitted  by  Lennox  to 
Sir  William  Wallace,  it  found  him  on  the  banks  of  the 
<Eske,  just  returned  from  the  citadel  of  Berwick^ 
where,  once  more  master  of  that  fortress,  he  had  die* 
tated  the  terms  of  a  conqueror  and  a  patriot.  The 
wounded  Southrons  he  put  on  board  the  ships  \7hicU 
De  Warenne,  in  his  haste  to  be  gone,  had  lefi  in  the 
harbour;  and  aIlov;ed  tkem  to  ticek  their  way  to  am 
English  port,  Wallace  manned  the  citadel  with  Scots  ; 
and  leaving  R.amsay  as  its  governor,  he  retraced  his 
corse-tracked  march,  to  commit  the  bodies  of  his  va- 
liant soldiers  to  the  besom  of  that  earth  they  had  so 
gallantly  defended. 

In  the  scene  of  b^s  former  victories,  the  romantic 
shades  of  Hawthorndean,  he  pitched  his  camp  ;  and 
from  it  made  hourly  excursions  to  complete  his  work. 
For  foes  as  well  as  friends,  he  prepared  the  vast  grave 
which  was  to  unite  the  victims  of  ruthless  v/ar  in  ever- 
lasting peace.  While  employed  in  this  pious  task,  hi& 
heart  was  wrung  by  the  intelligence  of  liie  nevay 
aroused  storm  in  the  citadel  of  Stirling  ;  but  as  some, 
antidote  to  these  pangs,  the  chieftsdns  of  Mid-Lothia» 
poured  into  him  on  every  side,  and  acknowledging  hina 
their  protector,  he  again  found  himself  the  idol  of  gra- 
titude and  the  almost  deified  object  of  trust.  At  such 
a  moment,  when  with  one  voice  they  were  disclaiming 
all  participation  in  the  insurgent  proceedings  at  Stir- 
ling, another  messen.ger  arrived  from  Lennox  to  con- 
jure Wallace,  if  he  would  avoid  either  open  violence  or 
secret  treachery,  to  march  his  victorious  troops  imme- 
diately to  that  city,  and  seize  the  assembled  abthanes  at 
once,  as  traitors  to  their  country :  "  Resume  the  Re- 
gency,'* added  he,  "  which  you  only  knovf  how  to  con- 
V  cc3 


506  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS, 

duct;  and  crush  a  treason  which  increases  hourly,  and 
now  walks  openly  in  the  day,  threatening  all  that  is  vir- 
tuous or  faithful  to  you  !" 

He  did  not  hesitate  to  decide  against  this  counsel ; 
for,  in  following  it,  it  would  not  be  one  adversary  he 
must  strike,  but  thousands.  "  I  am  only  a  I  ther  to 
my  countrymen,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  and  iiave  no 
right  to  force  them  to  their  duty :  but  when  their  king 
appears,  then  these  rebellious  heads  may  be  made  to 
bow." — While  he  mused  upon  the  letter  wLich  he  held 
in  his  hand,  Ruthven  entered  to  him  into  the  recess  of 
his  tent,  whither  he  had  retired  to  read  it.—"  I  bring 
you  better  news  of  our  friend  at  Hunting-tower ;" 
cried  the  good  lord  ;  "  here  is  a  packet  from  Douglas, 
and  another  from  my  wife." — Wallace  read  them,  and 
found  that  Bruce  was  relieved  from  his  delirium,  but 
he  was  left  so  weak  that  they  had  not  hazarded  a  re- 
lapse by  imparting  to  him  any  idea  of  the  proceedings 
at  Stirling :  all  he  knew  was,  that  Wallace  was  victo- 
rious in  arms,  and  panted  for  his  recovery,  to  render 
such  success  really  beneficial  to  his  country.  Helen  and 
Isabella,  and  the  Sage  of  Ercildoun,  were  the  prince's 
unwearied  attendants ;  and  though  his  life  was  yet  in 
extreme  peril,  it  was  to  be  hoped  that  their  attentions 
and  his  own  constitution  would  finally  cure  the  wound 
and  conquer  its  attendant  fever.  Comforted  with  these 
tidings,  Wallace  declared  his  intentions  of  visiting  his 
dear  and  suifering  friend  as  soon  as  he  could  establish 
any  principle  in  the  minds  of  his  followers  to  induce 
them  to  bear  with  the  insolence  of  the  abthanes  for  a 
little  time  :  "  I  will  then,"  said  he,  "  watch  by  the  side 
of  our  beloved  Bruce,  till  his  recovered  health  will  al- 
low him  safely  to  proclaim  himself  king;  and  with  that 
act,  I  trust  that  ail  these  feuds  will  be  for  ever  laid  to 
sleep."  Ruthven  participated  in  these  hopes,  and  the 
friends  returned  together  into  the  council-tent.  But 
all  there  was  changed.  Most  of  the  Lothian  chieftains 
had  also  received  packets  from  their  friends  in  Stirling. 
Allegations  agaiiist  Wallace ;  arguments  to  prove  the 
policy  of  submitting  themselves  and  their  properties  to 
the  protection  of  a  great  king,  though  a  foreigner,  ra- 
ther than  to  risk  all  by  attaching  themselves  to  the  for- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  307 

tune  of  a  private  person,  who  made  his  successes  and 
their  services,  the  ladder  of  his  ambition,  were  the  con- 
tents of  these  packets  ;  and  they  were  sufficient  to 
shake  the  easy  faith  to  which  they  were  addressed. 
The  chieftains  on  the  re-entrance  of  Wallace  stole 
suspicions  glances  at  each  other,  and  without  a  word 
glided  severaHy  out  of  the  tent. 

Next  mortftng,  instead  of  coming  as  usual  directly 
to  their  acknowledged  protector,  they  were  seen  at  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  camp,  closely  conversing  in  groups  ; 
and  when  any  of  Wallace's  officers  approached,  they 
separated  or  withdrew  to  a  greater  distance.  This 
strange  conduct  Wallace  attributed  to  its  right  source; 
and  thought  of  Bruce  with  a  sigh,  when  he  contem- 
plated the  variable  substance  of  these  men's  minds. 
Lord  Sinclair  alone  kept  unalterably  firm  to  his  faith  in 
the  victor  of  Roslyn.  His  venerable  brother  was  not 
yet  returned  from  Rome,  to  give  power,  by  his  councils, 
to  the  fidelity  of  Sinclair ;  and  that  chief  was  so  con- 
founded by  the  hatred  which  the  majority  of  his  peers 
manifested  against  Wallace  and  all  his  proceedings, 
that,  though  attached  to  his  person,  he  could  not  but 
abandon  the  hope  that  the  liberty  he  had  given  to  Scot- 
land would  be  accepted  by  those  haughty  lords.  Wal- 
lace was  himself  so  convinced  that  nothing  but  the  pro- 
clamation of  Bruce,  and  that  prince's  personal  exertions, 
could  preserve  his  country  from  falling  again  into  the 
snare  from  which  he  had  just  snatched  it,  that  he  was 
preparing  immediately  to  set  out  for  Perthshire  on  his 
anxious  mission,  when  Ker  hastily  entered  his  tent. 
He  was  followed  by  the  Lord  Soulis  with  Buchan  and 
several  other  chieftains  of  equally  hostile  intentions. 
Soulis  did  not  hesitate  to  declare  his  errand. 

"  We  come.  Sir  William  W^allace,  by  the  command 
of  the  Regent  and  the  assembled  abthanesof  Scotland, 
to  take  these  brave  troops  which  have  performed  such 
good  service  to  their  country,  from  the  power  of  a  man 
who,  we  have  every  reason  to  believe,  means  to  turn 
their  arms  against  the  liberties  of  the  state.  Without 
any  commission  from  the  Regent;  in  contempt  of  the 
dignity  of  that  court  which,  having  found  you  guilty  of 
high  treason,  had  in  mercy  delayed  to  pronounce  the 


SOS  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

sentence  due  to  youi'  erime,  you  presumed  to  place 
yourself  at  the  head  of  the  national  troops,  and  to  take  to 
yourself  the  meritof  a  victory  won  by  theu'prowess  alone. 
Your  designs  are  known ;  and  the  authority  you  have 
despised,  is  now  roused  to  punish.  You  are  to  accom- 
pany me  this  day  to  Stirling.  I  have  brought  a  guard 
of  four  thousand  men  to  compel  your  obedience.'* 

Before  the  indignant  spirit  of  Wallace  could  utter 
the  answer  his  wrongs  dictated,  Bothwell,  who  at  sight 
of  the  Regent's  troops  advancing  along  the  hills  h.,/ 
hastened  to  his  general's  tent,  entered,  followed  by  his 
chieftains,  as  the  last  sentence  was  pronounced  by  Sou- 

lis. "  Were  it  forty  thousand  instead  of  four,"  cried 

he,  "they  should  not  force  our  commander  from  us, 
they  should  not  extinguish  the  glory  of  Scotland  be- 
neath the  murderous  devices  of  hell-engendered  envy 
and  cowardice  !"  Soulis  turned  on  him  v/ith  eyes  of 
fire,  and  laid  his  hand  on  his  sword.  '^  Aye,  cowardice  !" 
reiterated  Bothwell,  "  the  midnight  ravisher,  the  slan- 
derer of  virtue,  the  betrayer  of  liis  country,  knows  in 
his  heart  tliathe  fears  to  draw  aught  but  the  assassin's 
steel.  He  dreads  ,the  sceptre  of  honour  : — Wallace 
must  fall,  that  vice  and  her  votaries  may  reign  without 
control  in  Scotland.  A  thousan-d  brave  Scots  lie  under 
these  sods,  and  a  thousand  yet  survive,  who  may  share 
their  graves,  but  they  never  will  relinquish  their  invin- 
cible leader  into  tlie  hands  of  traitors  1" 

The  clamours  of  the  citadel  of  Stirling  now  resound- 
ed through  the  tent  of  Wallace.  Invectives,  accusa- 
tions, threatenings,  reproaches  and  revilings,  joined  in 
one  turbulent  uproar.  Again  swords  were  drawn,  and 
Wallace,  in  attempting  to  beat  down  the  weapons  of 
Soulis  and  Buchan  which  were  both  aimed  at  Bothwell, 
must  have  received  the  point  of  Soulis  in  his  breast 
had  he  not  at  the  moment  grasped  the  blade,  and  wrench- 
ing it  out  of  the  chieftain's  hand,  broke  it  into  shivers, 
and  throwing  them  to  the  ground,  "  Such  be  the  fate  of 
every  sword  which  Scot  draws  against  Scot  I"  cried  he, 
"  Put  up  your  weapons  my  friends. — The  ai'm  of  Wal- 
lace is  not  shrunk,  that  he  could  not  defend  himself, 
did  he  think  that  violence  were  necessary.  Hear  my 
determination  once  and  for  ever  l"  added  he,,  "  I  ac- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  309 

knowledge  no  authority  in  Scotland  but  the  laws.  The 
present  Regent  and  his  abthanes  outrage  them  in  every 
ordinance,  and  I  should  indeed  be  a  traitor  to  my  coun- 
try, did  I  submit  to  such  men's  behests.  I  shall  not 
obey  their  summons  to  Stirling— neither  will  I  permit 
a  hostile  arm  to  be  raised  in  this  camp  against  their  de- 
legates, unless  the  violence  begins  with  them. — This  is 
my  answer." — Uttering  these  words  he  motioned  Both- 
•well  to  follow  him,  and  left  the  tent. 

Crossing  a  little  bridge  which  lay  over  the  Eske,  to 
the  quarters  of  Ruthven,  he  met  that  nobleman  and  Ed- 
win accompanied  by  Lord  Sinclair.  He  came  to  in- 
form Wallace  that  embassadors  from  Edv/ard  had  just 
arrived  at  Roslyn,  where  they  awaited  his  audience. 
"  They  come  to  offer  peace  to  our  distracted  country,'* 
cried  Sinclair.  "  Then,"  answered  he,  "  I  shall  not 
a  moment  delay  going  where  I  may  hear  the  terms," 
Horses  were  brought,  and  during  their  short  ride,  to 
prevent  the  impassioned  representations  of  the  still  rag- 
ing Bothwell,  Wallace  communicated  to  his  not  less 
indignant  friends  the  particulars  of  the  scene  he  had 
left.  ''  These  contentions  must  be  terminated,"  added 
he,  "  and  with  God's  blessing,  a  few  days,  perhaps 
hours,  and  they  shall  be  so  I"  "  Heaven  grant  it  1'* 
returned  Sinclair,  thinking  he  referred  to  the  proposed 
negotiation  :  "  If  Edward's  offers  be  at  all  reasonable, 
I  would  m-ge  you  to  accept  them  ;  otherwise,  invasion 
from  without,  and  civil  commotion  v^'ithin,  v/ill  probably 
make  a  desert  of  poor  Scotland.''  Ruthven  interrupted 
him,  "  Despair  not,  my  lord  !  Whatever  be  the  fate  of 
this  embassy,  let  us  remember  that  it  is  the  wisdom  of 
our  steadiest  friend  that  decides,  and  that  his  arm  is 
still  with  us  to  repel  invasion,  and  to  chastise  treason!" 
Edwin's  eyes  turned  with  a  direful  expression  upon 
Wallace,  and  he  lowly  murmured,  "Treason!  hydi-a^ 
treason  !"  Wallace  understood  him,  and  ans  vcicd, 
"  Grevious  are  thp  alternatives,  my  friends,  whic  ?ar 
love  for  me  would  persuade  you  even  to  welcom  >ut 
that  which  I  shall  choose  will,  I  trust,  indeed  lay  i  .o\d 
at  peace,  or  point  its  hostilities  to  the  only  aim  agaia?>*^ 
which  a  true  Scot  ought  to  direct  its  fires  I" 


310  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Being  arrived  at  the  gate  of  Roslyn,  Wallace,  regard-  \ 
less  of  those  ceremonials  which  often  impede  the  busi- 
ness they  pretend  to  dignify,  entered  at  once  into  the 
hall  where   the  embassadors    sat.     Baron    Hilton  was 
one,  and  Le  de  Spencer  (father  to  the  young  and  vio- 
lent envoy  of  that  name)  was  the  other.     At  sight  of '1 
the  Scottish  chief  they  rose,  and  Wallace  having  gra-    ' 
ciously   recognised  Hilton,  the  good  Baron,  believing 
he  came  on  a  propitious  errand,  smiling,  said,"  Sir  Wil- 
liam Wallace,  it  is  your  private  ear  I  am  commanded 
to  seek."     As  he  spoke  he  looked  round  on  Snclair  and 
the  other  lords.     "  These  chieftains  are  as  myself,"  re- 
plied Wallace,  ''but  I  will  not  impede   your   embassy 
by  crossing  ^)^  wishes^ of  your  master  in  a  trifle."     He 
then  turned  to  his  friends,  "  Indulge  the  monarch  of 
England  in  making  mc  first  acquainted  with  v/hat  can 
only  be  a  message  to  the  whole  nation.*' 

The   chiefs  withdrew,  and  Hilton,  without  further 
parley,  opened   his  mission. — He  said,  that  King  Ed- 
ward, more  than   ever  impressed  with   the  wondrous 
military  talents  of  Sir  V/iliiam  Wallace,  and  solicitous 
to  make  a  friend  of  so  heroic  an  enemy,  had  sent  him 
an  olTer  of  grace  which,  if  he  contemned,  should  be  the 
last.     He  offered  him  a  theatre  whereon  he  could  dis- 
play his  peerless  endoA?ments  to  the  admiration  of  the 
world — the  kingdom  of  Ireland,  with  its  yet  unreaped  , 
fields  of  glory,  and  all  the  ample   riches   of  its  abun-  ; 
dant  provinces,  should  be  his  !     Edward  only  required 
in  return  for  this  royal  gift,  that  he  should  abandon  the 
cause  of  Scotland,  swear  fealty  to  him  for  Irelar.d,  and 
resign  into  his  hands  one  whom  he  had  proscribed  as 
the  most  ungrateful  of  traitors.     In  acknowledgment 
for  the  latter  sacrifice,  he  need  only  furnish   his  majes-  " 
ty  with  a  list  of  those  Scottish  lords  against  whom  Wal- 
lace bore  any  resentment,  and  their  fates  should  be  or- 
dered according   to  his  dictates.      Edward  concluded 
his  offers  hy  inviting  him  immediately  to  London  to  be  . 
invested  with  his  new  sovereignty:  and  he  ended  by 
shewing  him  the  madness  of  abiding  longer  in  a  coun- 
try where  almost  every  chieftain  secretly  or  openly  car- 
ried a  dagger  against  his  life  ;  and  therefore  he  ex-.  ■ 
.  horted   him  no  longer  to  contend  for  a  cotmtry  so  uu* 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  311 

worthy  of  freedom,  thatitbore  -with  impatience  the  on- 
ly man  who  had  had  the  courage  to  maintain  it  by  vir- 
tue alone. 

Wallace  replied  calmly  and  without  hesitation  :  "  To 
this  offer  an  honest  man  can  make  but  one  reply.  As 
well  might  your  sovereign  exact  of  me  to  dethrone  the 
angels  of  heaven,  as  to  require  me  to  subscribe  to  his 
proposals! — They  do  but  mock  me;  and  aware  of  my 
rejection,  they  are  thus  delivered;  to  throw  the  whole 
blame  of  this  cruelly-persecuting  war  upon  me.  Ed- 
ward knows  that  as  a  knight,  a  true  Scot,  and  a  man,  I 
should  dishonour  myself  t'o  accept  even  life,  aye,  or  the 
lives  of  all  my  kindred,  upon  these  terms." 

Hilton  interrupted  him  by  declaring  the  sincerity  of 
Edward  ;  and  contrasting  it  with  the  ingratitude  of  the 
people  whom  he  had  served,  he  conjured  him  with  eve- 
ry persuasive  of  rhetoric,  every  entreaty  dictated  by  a 
mind  that  revered  the  very  firmness  he  strove  to  shake, 
to  relinquish  his  faithless  country  and  become  the  friend 
of  a  king  ready  to  receive  him  with  open  arms.  Wal- 
lace shook  his  head  ;  and  with  an  incredulous  smile 
which  spoke  his  thoughts  of  Edward,  while  his  eyes 
beamed  .kindness  upon  Hilton,  he  answered — "  Can 
the  man  who  would  bribe  me  to  betray  a  friend,  be  faith- 
ful in  his  friendship  ? — But  that  is  not  the  weight  with 
me  :— I  was  not  brought  up  in  those  schools,  my  good 
barofi,  which  teach  that  sound  policy  or  true  self-inter- 
est can  be  separated  from  virtue.  When  I  was  a  boy 
my  father  often  repeated  to  me  this  proverb, 

Dico  tibi  -♦erum,  libertas  optima  rerum 
Nunquam  servilissub  nexu  vivitur  fili.  (i) 

I  learnt  it  then ;  I  have  since  made  it  the  standard 
dfmy  actions:  and  therefore  I  answer  your  monarch  in 
a  word.  Were  all  others  of  my  countrymen  to  re- 
sign their  claims  to  the  liberty  which  is  their  right,  I 
alone  would  declare  the  independence  of  my  country, 
and  by  God's  assistance,  while  I  live,  acknowledge  no 
other  master  than  the  laws  of  St.  David  and  the  legit- 
imate heir  of  his  blood — !"  The  glow  of  resolute  pat- 
riotism which  overspread  his  countenance  while  he 
spoke,  was  reflected  by  a  fluctuating  colour  on  that  of 


/ 


312  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Hilton  : "  Noble  chieftain  I"  cried   he,   "  I   admire- i 

while  I  regret ;  I  revere  the  virtue  -which  I  am   even 

now  constrained    to   denounce. These   principles, 

bravest  cf.men,  might  have  suited  the  simple  ages  of 
Greece  and  Rome,  aPhocion  or  a  Fabricius  might  have 
uttered  the  like,  and  compelled  the  homage  of  their 
enemies;  but  in  these  days  such  magnanimity  is  con- 
sidered frenzy,  and  ruin  is  its  consequence." — "  And 
shall  a  christian,"  cried  Wallace,  reddening  with  the 
flush  of  honest  shame,  "deem  that  virtue,  which  even 
heathens  practised  with  veneration,  of  too  pure  a  nature 
to  be  exercised  by  men  taught  by  Christ  himself? — 
There  is  blasphemy  in  the  idea,  and  I  can  hear  no  more." 

Hilton,  in  some  confusion,  excused  his  argument, 
by  declaring  that  it  proceeded  from  his  observations  on 
the  conduct  of  men.  "  And  shall  we,"  replied  Wal- 
lace, "  follow  a  multitude  to  do  evil  ?  I  act  to  one  Be- 
ing alone.  Edward  must  acknowledge  his  supremacy, 
and  by  that  know  that  my  soul  is  above  all  price  1'*  "  Am 
I  answered  ?"  said  Hilton,  and  then  hastily  interrupt- 
ing himself,  he  added  in  a  voice  even  of  supplication, 
"  Your  fate  rests  on  your  reply  !  O  !  noblest  of  War- 
riors, consider  only  for  a  day  1" — '*  Not  for  a  moment," 
said  Wallace. — "  I  am  sensible  to  your  kindness,  but 
my  answer  to  Edward  has  been  pronounced." 

Baron  Hilton  turned  sorrowfully  away,  and  Le  de  Spen- 
cer rose,  "  Sir  William  Wallace,  my  part  of  the  em- 
bassy must  be  delivered  to  you  in  the  assembly  of  your 
chieftains  !" — ="  In  the  congregation  of  my  camp,"  re- 
turned he,  and  opening  the  door  of  the  anti-room  in 
"which  his  friends  stood,  he  sent  Edwin  to  summon 
his  chieftains  to  the  platform  before  the  council-tent, 
and  leaving  the  embassadors  to  follow  with  Sinclair,  he 
■withdrew  between  Bothwell  and  Ruthven,  and  in  his 
way  back  to  the  camp  narrated  the  particulars  of  Ed- 
ward's insidious  message. 


THE   SCOTTISH  CHIEFS,  SI. 


CHAP,  xxvni. 

When  Wallace  entered  before  his  tent  he  found 
not  only  the  captams  of  his  own  army,  but  the  followers 
of  Soulis,  wid  the  chieftains  of  Lothian.  He  looked  on 
this  range  of  his  enemies  with  a  fearless  eye,  and  pass- 
ing through  the  crowd,  took  his  station  beside  the  em- 
bassadors on  the  platform  of  the  tent. — The  venerable 
Hilton  turned  away  in  tears  as  he  advanced,  and  Le  de 
Spencer  came  forward  to  speak.  Wallace  perceiving 
his  intention,  with  a  dignified  action  requested  his  leave 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  addressing  the  congrega- 
ted warriors,  in  brief  he  unfolded  to  them  the  offer  of 
Edward  to  him,  and  what  was  his  reply.  "  And  now,*' 
added  he,  "  the  embassador  of  England,  is  at  liberty  to 
declare  his  master's  alternative." 

Le  de  Spencer  again  stepped  forward  and  attempted 
to  speak,  but  the  acclamations  with  which  the  followers 
of  Wallace  acknov/ledged  the  nobleness  of  his  answer, 
excited  such  an  opposite  clamour  on  the  side  of  the 
Soulis  party,  that  Le  de  Spencer  was  obliged  to  mount 
a  war-carriage  which  stood  near,  and  vociferate  long 
and  loudly  for  silence,  before  he  could  be  heard.  But 
the  first  words  which  caught  the  ears  of  his  audience 
acted  like  a  spell,  and  seemed  to  hold  them  in  breath- 
less attention. 

"  Since  Sir  William  Wallace  rejects  the  grace  of  his 
liege  lord  Edward  King  of  England,  offered  to  him 
this  once,  and  never  to  be  more  repeated,  thus  saith 
the  king  in  his  mercy  to  the  earls,  barons,  knights,  and 
commonalty  of  Scotland  I — To  every  one  of  them,  chief 
and  vassal,  excepting  the  aforesaid  incorrigible  rebel, 
he,  the  royal  Edward,  grants  an  amnesty  of  all  their 
past  treasons  and  rebellions  against  his  sacred  person 
and  rule,  provided  that  within  twenty-four  hours  after 
they  hear  the  words  of  this  proclamation,  they  acknow= 
ledge  their  disloyalty  with  repentance,  and  laying  down 
their  arms,  swear  eternal  fealty  to  their  only  lawful  ru- 
ler tiie  Lord  Edward  of  England  and  Scotland  1" — Le 
de  Spencer  then  proclaimed  Edward  to  be  now  on  the 
borders  with  an  army  of  a  hitndred  thousand  men,  ready 

VOL.   II.  D  t> 


3U  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

to  inarch  with  fire  and  sword  into  the  heart  of  the  king, 
dom,  £fnd  to  put  to  the  rack  all  of  every  sex,  age,  and 

condition,  who  shall  venture  to  dispute  his  rights 

"  Yield  now,"  added  he,  "  while  yet  you  may  not  only 
grasp  the  clemency  that  is  extended  to  you,  but  the 
rewards  and  honours  he  is  ready  to  bestow.  Adhere 
to  that  unhappy  man,  and  by  to-morrow's  sun-set  your 
offended  king  will  be  on  these  hills,  and  then  mercy 
shall  be  no  more  !  Death  is  the  doom  of  Sir  William 
Wallace,  and  a  similar  fate  to  any  Scot,  who  will  dare 
after  this  hour  to  give  him  food,  shelter,  or  succour. 
He  is  the  prisoner  of  King  Edward,  and  thus  I  demand 
him  at  your  hands  !" 

Wallace  spoke  not,  but  with  an  unmoved  counte- 
nance looked  round  upon  the  assembly.  "  I,  I  will  be 
faittiful  to  you  to  the  last  1"  exclaimed  Edwin,  preci- 
pitating himself  into  his  friend's  arms. — Bothwell's 
full  soul  now  forced  utterance  from  his  swelling  breast: 
**  Tell  your  sovereign,"  cried  he,  "  that  he  mistakes. — 
We  are  the  conquerors  who  ought  to  dictate  terms  of 
peace  ! — Wallace  is  our  invincible  leader,  our  redeem- 
er from  slavery,  the  earthly  hope  in  whom  we  trust,  and 
it  is  not  in  the  power  of  men  nor  devils  to  bribe  us  to 
betray  our  benefactor.  Away  to  your  king,  and  tell 
him  that  Andrew  Murray,  and  every  honest  Scot,  is 
ready  to  live  or  die  by  the  side  of  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace.*'—"  And  by  this  good  sword,  I  swear  the  same  1" 
cried  Ruthven.  "  And  so  do  I !"  rejoined  Scrym- 
geour,  *'  or  may  the  standard  of  Scotland  be  my  wind- 
ing sheet !" 

Not  another  chieftain  spoke  for  Wallace.  Sinclair 
was  intimidated,  and  like  others  who  wished  him  well, 
feared  to  utter  his  sentiments.  But  most.  Oh  !  shame 
to  Scotland  and  to  man,  cast  up  their  bonnets,  and  cried 
aloud — "  Long  live  King  Edward,  the  only  legitimate 

lord  of  Scotland  !" At  this  outcry,  which  was  echoed 

even  by  some  whom  he  had  confided  in,  by  the  chief- 
tains of  Perthshire,  and  pealed  around  him  like  a  burst 
of  thunder,  Wallace  threw  out  his  arms  as  if  he 
would  yet  protect  Scotlana  from  herself. — "  O !  deso- 
late people,"  exclaimed  he,  in  a  voice  of  piercing  woe, 
«  too  credulous  of  fair  speeches,  and  not  aware  of  the 
calamities  which  are  coming  upon  you  I     Call  to  re- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  315 

.  membrance  the  miseries  you  have  suffered,  and  then, 
before  it  be  too  late,  start  from  this  snare  of  your  op- 
pressor ! — Have  I  yet  to  tell  ye  that  his  embrace  is 
death  ?"  (*> 

"  Seize  that  rebellious  man,'*  cried  Soulis  to  his 
marshals,  "  in  the  name  of  the  King  of  England  I  com- 
mand you." — "And  in  the  name  of  the  Kin^-  of  Kings, 
I  denounce  death  on  him  who  attempts  it  1"  exclaimed 
Bothwell,  throwing  himself  between  Wallace  and  the 
men  ;  "  put  forth  a  hostile  hand  towards  him,  and  this 
bugle  shall  call  a  thousand  resolute  swords  to  lay  this 
platform  deep  in  blood !" 

Soulis,  followed  by  his  knights,  pressed  forward  to 
execute  his  commands  himself  Scrymgeour,  Ruth- 
ven,  and  Ker,  rushed  before  their  friend.  Edwin,  start- 
ing forward,  drew  his  sword,  and  the  clash  of  steel  was 
heard.  Bothwell  and  Soulis  grappled  together,  the 
falchion  of  Ruthven  gleamed  amidst  a  hundred  swords, 
and  blood  flowed  around.  The  voice,  the  arm  of  Wal- 
lace, in  vain  sought  to  enforce  peace;  he  was  not  heard, 
he  was  not  felt  in  the  dreadful  warfare.  Ker  fell  with 
a  gasp  at  his  feet,  and  breathed  no  more.  At  such  a  sight 
the  soul-struck  chief  wrung  his  hands,  and  exclaimed, 
in  bitter  anguish,  "  Oh,  my  country !  was  it  for  these 
horrors  that  my  Marion  died  ?  that  I  became  a  home- 
less wretch,  and  passed  my  days  and  nights  in  fields  of 
carnage  ?  Venerable  Mar,  dear  and  valiant  Graham  ! 
was  this  the  consummation  for  which  you  fell  ?" — At 
that  moment,  Bothwell  having  disabled  Soulis  by  a 
wound  in  the  arm,  would  have  blown  his  bugle  to  have 
called  up  his  men  to  a  general  conflict,  but  Wallace 
snatched  the  horn  from  his  hand,  and  springing  upon 
ihe  very  war-carriage  from  which  Le  de  Spencer  had 
proclaimed  Edward's  embassy,  he  drew  forth  his  sword, 
and  stretching  the  mighty  arm  that  held  it  over  the 
tiirong,  with  more  than  mortal  energy  he  exclaimed, 
**  Peace  !  men  of  Scotland,  and  for  the  last  time  hear 
the  voice  of  William  Wallace."  A  dead  silence  im» 
mediately  ensued,  and  he  proceeded  :  "  If  you  have  aught 
of  nobleness  within  ye;  if  a  delusion  more  fell  than 
witchcraft  have  not  blinded  your  senses,  look  beyond 
this  field  of  horror,  and  behold  your  country  free.    Ed- 


316  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS, 

ward  in  these  apparent  demands,  sues  for  peace : — Did 
we  not  drive  his  armies  into  the  sea  ? — And  were  we 
resolved,  he  never  could  cross  our  borders  more. 
What  is  it  then  that  you  do,  when  you  again  put  your 
necks  under  his  yoke  ?  Did  he  not  seek  to  bribe  me 
to  betray  you  ? — And  yet,  when  I  refuse  to  purchase 
life  and  the  world's  rewards  by  such  baseness,  you — 
you  forget  that  you  are  free-born  Sects,  that  you  are 
the  victors  and  he  the  vanquished,  and  you  give,  not 
sell,  your  birth-right,  to  the  demands  of  a  tyrant !  You 
yield  yourselves  to  his  extortions,  his  oppressions,  his 
revenge! — Think  not  he  will  spare  the  people  he 
would  have  sold  to  purchase  his  bitterest  enemy ;  qr 
allow  them  to  live  unmanacled,  who  possess  the  power 
of  resistance.  On  the  day  in  which  you  are  in  his 
hands,  you  will  feel  that  you  have  exchanged  honour 
foT  disgrace,  liberty  for  bondage,  life  for  death  I — Me 
you  abhor,  and  may  God  in  your  extremest  hour  forget 
that  injustice,  and  pardon  the  faithful  blood  that  has 
been  shed  this  day  !  I  draw  this  swxdixI  for  you  no 
more.  But  there  yet  lives  a  prince,  a  descendant  pf 
the  royal  heroes  of  Scotland,  whom  Providence  may 
conduct  to  be  your  preserver.  Reject  the  proposals  of 
Edward,  dare  to  defend  the  freedom  you  now  possess, 
and  that  prince  will  soon  appear  to  crown  your  patriot- 
ism with  glory  and  happiness  1" 

"  We  acknowledge  no  prince  but  King  Edward  of 
Eugland  1"  cried  Buchan. — "  His  countenance  is  our 
glory,  his  presence  our  happiness  !'* — The  exclamation 
was  reiterated  by  almost  all  on  the  ground.  Wallace 
was  transfixed. — "  Then,"  cried  Le  de  Spencer,  in  the 
first  pause  of  the  tumult,  "  to  every  man,  woman,  and 
child,  throughout  the  realm  of  Scotland,  excepting  Sir 
William  Wallace,  I  proclaim  in  the  name  of  King  Ed- 
Ward,  pardon  and  peace.'* 

At  these  words,  a  thousand  Scottish  chieftains  drop- 
ped on  their  knees  before  Le  dc  Spencer  and  murmur- 
ed their  vows  of  fealty.  Indignant,  grieved,  Wallace 
took  his  helmet  from  Lis  head,  and  throwing  his  sword 
into  the  hands  of  Bothwell,"  That  weapon,"  cried  he,^ 
♦<  which  1  wrested  from  this  very  King  Edward,  and  with 
which  I  twice  drove   him  from  our  borders,  I  give  to 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  Sir 

you.  In  your  hands  it  may  again  serve  Scotland.  I 
relinquish  a  soldier's  name  on  the  spot  where  I  hum- 
bled England  three  times  in  one  day,  where  I  now  see 
my  victorious  country  deliver  herself  bound  into  the 
hand  of  the  vanquished  !  I  go  without  sword  or  buck- 
ler from  this  dishonoured  field ;  and  what  Scot,  my 
public  or  private  enemy,  will  dare  to  strike  the  un- 
guarded head  of  Williann  Wallace  ? As  he   spoke 

he  threw  his  shield  and  helmet  to  the  ground,  and  leap- 
ing from  the  war-carriage,  took  his  course  with  a  fear- 
less and  dignified  step  through  the  parting  ranks  of  his 
enemies,  who,  awe-struck,  or  kept  in  check  by  a  suspi- 
cion that  others  might  not  second  the  attack  they  would 
have  made  on  him,  durst  not  lift  an  arm  or  breathe  a 
word  as  he  passed. 

Wallace  had  adopted  this  manner  of  leaving  the 
ground,  in  hopes  if  it  were  possible  to  awaken  the  least 
spark  of  honour  in  the  breasts  of  his  persecutors,  to 
prevent  the  bloodshed  which  must  ensue  between  his 
friends  and  them,  should  they  attempt  to  seize  him. 
Edwin  and  Bothwell  immediately  followed  him  ;  but 
Ruthven  and  Scrymgeour  remained,  to  take  charge  of 
the  remains  of  the  faithful  Ker,  (0  and  to  quiet  the  tu- 
mult  which  began  to  murmur  amongst  the  lower  or= 
ders  of  the  by-standers. 


CHAP.  XXX. 

A  VAGUE  suspicion  of  the  Regent  and  his  council^ 
and  a  pannic-struck  pusillanimity  which  shrunk  from 
supporting  that  Wallace  whom  the  abthanes  chose  ta 
abandon,  carried  the  spirit  of  slavery  from  the  platform 
before  the  council-tent,  to  the  chieftains  who  thronged 
the  ranks  of  Ruthven,  even  to  the  perversion  of  some 
few  who  had  followed  the  golden-haired  standard  of 
Bothwell.  The  brave  troops  of  Lanark  (which  the  des- 
perate battle  of  Dalkeith  had  reduced  to  not  more  than 
sixty  men,)  alone  remained  unmoved. 

In  the  moment  whan  the  indignant  Ruthven  saw  his 
Perthshire  legions  rolling  off  towards  the  trumpet  o£ 
D  D  2 


318  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Le  de  Spencer,  Scrymgeour  placed  himself  at  the  head 
of  the  Lanarkers  and  with  the  unfurled  banner  of  Scot- 
land inarched  with  a  steady  step  to  the  tent  of  Bothwell, 
whither  he  did  not  doubt  that  Wallace  had  retired.  He 
found  him  assuagingthe  impassioned  grief  of  Edwin  for 
what  had  passed, and  striving  to  moderate  the  vehement 
wrath  of  the  faithful  Murray.  "  Pour  not  out  the  en- 
ergy of  your  spirit  upon  these  worthless  men  V*  said 
he,  "  leave  them  to  the  fates  they  seek  :  the  fates  they 
have  incurred  by  the  innocent  blood  they  have  shed  this 
dry  !  The  few  brave  hearts  who  yet  remain  loy^l  to 
their  country,  are  insufficient  to  here  stem  the  torrent 
of  corruption.     Retire  beyond  the  Forth,   my   friend. 

Rally  all  true  Scots  around  Hunting-tower Let  the 

valiant  inmate  proclaim  himself;  and  at  the  foot  of  the 
Grampians  lock  the  gates  of  the  Highlands  upon  our 
enemies.  From  those  bulwarks  he  wall  soon  issue,  and 
Scotland  may  again  be  free  1'* 

"  Free,  but  never  more  honoured !"  cried  Edwin, 
"  never  more  beloved  by  me !  Ungrateful,  treacherous^ 
base  land,"  added  he,  starting  on  his  feet  and  raising 
his  clasped  hands  with  the  vehement  adjuration  of  an 
indignant  spirit ;  "Oh,  that  the  salt  se-a  would  engulf 
thee  at  once,  that  thy  name  and  thy  ingratitude  could 
be  no  more  remembered  !  I  will  never  wear  a  sword 
for  her  again. '^  "  Edwin  !"  ejaculated  Wallace,  in  a 
reproachful,  yet  tender  tone.  "  Exhort  m.e  not  to  for- 
give my  country  !"  returned  he,  "  tell  me  to  take  my 
deadliest  foe  to  my  breast ;  to  pardon  the  assassin  who 
strikes  his  steel  into  my  heart,  and  I  will  obey  you  ; 
but  to  pardon  Scotland  for  the  injury  that  she  has  done 
to  you  ;  for  the  disgrace  with  which  her  self-debase- 
ment stains  this  cheek;  I  never,  never  can  ! — I  abhor 
these  sons  of  Lucifer  ?  Think  not,  noblest  of  masters, 
dearest  of  friends,"  cried  he,  throwing  himself  at  Wal- 
lace's feet,  "  that  I  will  ever  shine  in  the  light  of  those 
envious  stars  which  have  displaced  the  sun  1  No,  tibi 
sdH  shall  henceforth  be  the  impression  on  my  shield  : 
10  thee  alone  will  lever  turn;  and  till  your  beams 
restore  your  country  and  revive  me,  the  springing 
laurels  of  Edwin  Ruthven  shall  wither  where  they 
grew  1"     Wallace  foWed  him  to  his  heart;  a  tear  stocd 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  319 

iti  his  eye  while  his  cheek  touched  that  of  Edwin,  and 
he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  If  thou  art  mine,  thou  art  Scot- 
land's. Me,  she  rejects. — Mysterious  heaven  wills 
that  I  should  quit  my  post  ;  but  for  thee,  Edwin,  as  a  re- 
lic of  the  fond  love  lyetbearthis  wretched  country,  abide 
by  her,  bear  with  her,  cherish  her,  defend  her  for  my 
sake  ;  and  if  Bruce  lives,  he  will  be  to  thee  a  second 
Wallace,  a  friend,  a  brother  1"  Edwin  listened,  wept^ 
and  sobbed,  but  his  heart  was  fixed  ;  ind  unable  to 
speak,  he  broke  from  his  friend's  arms  and  hurried  into 
an  interior  apartment  to  subdue  his  emotions. 

Ruthven  now  joined  his  determined  opinion  with 
that  of  Bothwell,  that  if  ever  a  civil  war  could  be  sanc- 
tified, this  was  the  time  ;  and  in  spite  of  all  that  Wal- 
lace could  urge  against  the  madness  of  contending  for 
his  supremacy  over  a  nation  which  would  not  yield  him 
obedience,  still  they  remained  firm  in  their  resolution. 
Bruce  they  hardly  dared  hope  would  recover;  and  to 
relinquish  the  guiding  hand  of  their  best  approved  lea- 
der at  this  crisis,  was  a  sacrifice  no  earthly  power  should 
compel  them  to  make.  "  So  far  from  it,"  cried  Lord 
Bothwel],  dropping  on  his  knee  and  grasping  the  cross 
hilt  of  his  sword  in  both  hands,  "  I  swear  by  the  blood 
of  the  crucified  Lord  of  an  ungrateful  world,  that 
should  Bruce  die,  I  will  obey  no  other  king  of  Scot- 
land than  William  Wallace  1"  Wallace  turned  ashy- 
pale  as  he  listened  to  his  vow.  At  that  moment  Scryni- 
geour  entered  followed  by  the  Lanarkers ;  and  all 
kneeling  at  his  feet,  repeated  the  oath  of  Bothwell,  and 
called  on  him,  by  the  unburied  corse  of  his  murdered 
Ker,  to  lead  them  forth,  and  avenge  them  of  his  ene» 
mies. 

As  soon  as  the  agitation  of  his  soul  would  allow  him 
to  speak  to  this  faithful  group,  he  stretched  his  hands 
over  them  ;  and  tears,  such  as  a  father  would  shed  who 
looks  on  the  children  he  is  to  behold  no  more,  gliding 
over  his  cheeks  ;  he  said  in  a  subdued  and  faltering 
voice,  "God  will  avenge  our  friend:  my  sword  is 
sheathed  for  ever.  May  that  holy  Being  who  is  the  true 
and  best  king  of  the  virtuous,  always  be  present  with 
you  !  I  feel  your  love,  and  I  appreciate  it.  But,  Both- 
■^eell,  Ruthven,  Scrymgeour,  my  faithful  Lanarkers:? 


320  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

leave  me  awhile  to  compose   my  scattered  thoughts 
Let  me  pass  this  night  alone  ;  and  to-morrow  you  shall 
know  the  resolution  of  your  grateful  Wallace  1" 

The  shades  of  evening  were  closing  in,  and  the  Lan- 
arkers,  first  obtaining  permission  to  keep  guard  before 
the  wood  which  skirted  the  tent,  respectfully  kissing 
his  hand  withdrev/.  Ruthven  called  Edwin  from  the 
recess  whither  he  had  retired  to  unburthen  his  grief ; 
but  as  soon  as  he  heard  that  it  was  the  resolution  of  his 
friends  to  preserve  the  authority  of  Wallace,  or  to  per- 
ish in  the  contest,  the  gloom  passed  from  his  fair  brow, 
a  smile  of  triumph  parted  his  lips,  and  he  exclaimed, 
"  All  will  be  well  again  I  We  shall  force  this  deluded 
nation  to  recognise  her  safety  and  her  happiness  1" 

While  the  determined  chiefs  held  discourse  conge- 
nial with  the  wishes  of  the  youthful  knight,  Wallace 
sat  almost  silent.  He  seemed  revolving  some  momen- 
tous idea:  he  frequently  turned  his  eyes  on  the  speak- 
ers with  a  fixed  regard,  which  appeared  rather  full  of  a 
grave  sorrow,  than  demonstrative  of  any  sympathy  in 
the  subjects  of  their  discussion.  On  Edwin  he  at  times 
looked  with  penetrating  tenderness;  and  when  the  bell 
from  the  neighbouring  convent  sounded  the  hour  of 
rest,  he  stretched  out  his  hand  to  him  with  a  smile 
which  he  wished  should  speak  of  comfort  r.s  well  as  of 
affection ;  but  the  soul  spoke  more  eloquently  than  he 
had  intended  :  his  smile  was  mournful,  and  the  attempt 
to  render  it  otherwise,  like  a  transient  light  over  vi 
dark  sepulchre,  only  the  more  distinctly  shewed  the 
gloom  and  horrors  within.  "  And  am  1  too  to  leave 
you?"  said  Edwin.  "Yes,  my  brother,'*  replied  Wal- 
lace, "  I  have  much  to  do  with  heaven  and  my  own 
thoughts  this  night.  We  separate  now  to  m*eet  more 
gladly  hereafter.  I  must  have  solitude  to  arrange  my 
plans.  To-morrow  you  shall  know  them.  Meanwhile 
farewell !"  as  he  spoke  he  pressed  the  affectionate 
youth  to  his  breast,  and  warmly  grasping  the  hands  of 
his  three  other  friends,  bade  them  an  earnest  adieu. 

Bothweli  lingered  a  moment  at  the  tent  door,  and 
iooking  back  J  "  Let  your  first  plan  be,  that  to-morrow 
you  lead  us  to  Lord  Soulis's  quarters,  to  teach  the  trai- 
tor what  it  is  to  be  a  Scot  and  a   man  T'     "  My  plana 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  32  i 

shall  be  deserving  of  my  brave  colleagues,"  replied  Wal- 
lace; "and  whether  they  be  executed  on  this  or  the 
other  side  of  the  Forth,  you  shall  find,  my  long-tried 
Bothwell,  that  Scotland's  peace  and  the  honour  of  her 
best  sons  are  the  dearest  considerations  of  your  friend." 

When  the  door  closed  and  Wallace  was  left  alone, 
he  stood  for  awhile  in  the  middle  of  the  tent  listening 
to  the  departing  steps  of  his  friends.  When  the  last 
sound  died  on  his  ear;  "I  shall  hear  them  no  morel'* 
cried  he ;  and  throwing  himself  into  a  seat,  he  remain- 
ed for  an  hour  lost  in'  a  trance  of  grievous  thoughts. 
Melancholy  remembrances,  and  prospects  dire  for 
Scotland,  pressed  upon  his  surcharged  heart.  ^  "  It  is 
to  God  alone  I  must  confide  my  country  1"  cried  he, 
"  his  mercy  will  pity  its  madness,  and  forgive  its  deep 
transgressions.  My  duty  is  to  remove  the  object  of 
ruin  far  from  the  power  of  any  longer  exciting  jealou- 
sy, or  awakening  zeal."  With  these  words,  he  took  a 
pen  in  his  hand  to  write  to  Bruoe. 

He  briefly  narrated  the  events  which  compelled  hini, 
if  he  would  avoid  the  grief  of  having  occasioned  a  civil 
war,  to  quit  his  country  for  ever.  The  general  hostility 
of  the  nobler;  the  unresisting  acquiescence  of  the  peo- 
ple in  measures  which  menaced  his  life  and  sacrificed 
the  freedom  for  which  he  had  so  long  fought,  convinced 
him,  he  said,  that  his  wavlike  commission  was  now 
closed.  He  was  summoned  by  heaven  to  exchange  tho 
field  for  the  cloister :  and  to  the  monastery  at  Chartres 
he  was  now  hastening  to  dedicate  the  remainder  of  his 
days  to  the  peace  of  a  future  ^vorld.  He  then  exhorted 
Bruce  to  confide  in  the  lords  Ruthven  and  Bothwell  as 
his  soul  would  comm.une  with  his  spirit,  for  that  he 
would  find  them  true  unto  death.  He  counselled  him, 
as  the  leading  measure,  to  circumvent  the  treason  of 
Scotland's  enemies,  to  go  immediately  to  Kilchurn 
Castle.  Loch-awe  had  retired  thither  on  the  last  ap- 
proach of  De  Warenne,  meaning  to  call  out  kis  vassals 
for  the  emergency.  But  the  battle  of  Dalkeith  was 
fought  and  gained  before  they  could  leave  their  heights, 
and  the  victor  did  not  need  them  afterwards.  To  use 
them  for  his  establishment  on  the  throne  of  his  king- 
dom, Wallace  advised  Bruce.     Amidst  the  natural  fov 


322  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

tresses  of  the  Highlands  he  might  recover  his  health 
and  collect  his  friends,  and  openly  proclaim  himself. 
"  Then,"  added  he,  "  when  Scotland  is  your  own,  let  its 
bulwarks  be  its  mountains  and  its  people's  arms.  Dis- 
m.antle  and  raze  to  the  ground  the  castles  of  those 
chieftains  who  have  only  embattled  them  to  betray  and 
enslave  f^eir  country."  Though  intent  on  these  politi- 
cal suggestions,  he  ceased  not  to  remember  his  own 
brave  engines  of  war;  and  he  earnestly  conjured  his 
prince,  that  he  would  wear  the  valiant  Kirkpatrick  as  a 
buckler  on  his  heart ;  that  he  would  place  the  faithful 
Scrymgeour  and  his  Lanarkers,  with  Grimsby,  next 
him  as  his  body  guard;  and,  that  he  would  love  and 
cherish  the  brave  and  tender  Edwin,  for  his  sake. 
"When  my  prince  and  friend  receives  thiss"  added  he, 
"  Wallace  shall  have  bidden  an  eternal  farewell  to 
Scotland  :  but  his  heart  will  be  amidst  its  hills.  My 
king,  the  friends  most  dear  to  me,  will  still  be  there  ! 
The  earthly  part  of  my  beloved  wife  rests  within  its  bo- 
som. But  I  go  to  rejoin  her  soul :  to  meet  it  in  the 
nightly  vigils  of  days  consecrated  wholly  to  the  bles- 
sed Being  in  whose  presence  she  rejoices  for  even 
This  is  no  sad  destiny,  my  dear  Bruce.  Our  Almighty 
Captain  recalls  me  from  dividing  with  you  the  glory  of 
maintaining  the  liberty  of  Scotland  ;  but  he  brings  me 
closer  to  himself:  I  leave  the  plains  of  Gilgal,  to  as- 
cend with  his  angel  into  the  Empyrean  !  Mourn  not 
then  my  absence  ;  for  my  prayers  v>^ill  be  with  you  till 
we  are  again  united  in  the  only  place  where  you  can 
fully  know  me  as  I  am,  thine  and  Scotland's  never-dying 
friend  1  Start  not  at  the  bold  epithet.  My  body  may 
sink  into  the  grave  ;  but  the  affections  of  my  immortal 
spirit  are  eternal  as  its  essence  ;  and  in  earth  or  heaven 
I  am  ever  yours. 

**  Should  the  endearing  Helen  be  near  your  couch 
when  you  read  this,  tell  her  that  Wallace  now  in  idea 
presses  her  virgin  cheek  with  a  brother's  chaste  fare- 
well, and  from  his  inmost  soul  hr  blesses  her.'* 

Messages  of  respectful  adieus  he  sent  to  Isabella, 
Lady  Ruthven,  and  the  Sage  of  Ercildoun :  and  then 
kneeling  down,  in  that  posture  he  wrote  his  last  invo» 
cations  for  the  prosperity  and  happiness  of  Bruce. 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  323 

This  letter  finished,  with  a  more  tranquil  mind  ho 
addressed  Lord  Ruthven  ;  detailini^  to  him  his  reasons 
for  leaving  such  faithful  friends  so  clandestinely ;  and 
after  mentioning  his  purpose  of  going  immediately  to 
France,  he  ended  with  those  expressions  of  gratitude 
which  the  worthy  chief  so  well  deserved;  and  exhort- 
ing him  to  transfer  his  public  zeal  for  him,  to  the  mag- 
nanimous and  royal  Bruce,  closed  the  letter,  with  beg- 
ging him,  for  the  sake  of  his  friend,  his  king,  and  his 
country,  to  return  immediately  with  all  his  followers  to 
Hunting-tower,  and  to  deliver  to  their  prince  the  in- 
closed. His  letter  to  Scrymgeour  spoke  nearly  the 
same  language.  But  wiien  he  began  to  write  to  Both- 
well,  to  bid  him  that  farewell  which  his  heart  foreboded 
would  be  for  ever  in  this  world ;  to  part  from  this  his 
steady  companion  in  arms,  his  dauntless  champion  !  he 
lost  some  of  his  composure,  and  his  hand-writing  testi- 
fied the  emotion"  of  his  mind.  How  then  was  he  shaken 
when  he  addressed  the  young  and  devoted  Edwin,  the 
brother  of  his  soul  !  He  dropped  the  pen  from  his 
band.  At  that  moment  he  felt  all  he  was  going  to  re- 
linquish, and  he  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  Scotland !  my  un- 
grateful ceuntr)  1  what  is  it  you  do  ?  Is  it  thus  that  you 
i-epay  your  most  faithful  servants  ?  It  is  not  enough 
that  the  wife  of  my  bosom,  the  companion  of  my  youth, 
should  be  torn  from  me  by  your  enemies;  but  your 
hand  must  wrest  from  my  bereaved  heart  its  every 
other  solace.  You  snatch  from  me  my  friends;  you 
would  deprive  me  of  my  life  !  To  preserve  yuu  from 
that  crime,  I  imbitter  the  cup  of  death ;  1  go  far  from 
the  tombs  of  my  fathers  ;  from  the  grave  of  my  Marion, 
where  I  had  fondly  hoped  to  rest  1"  His  head  sank  on 
his  arm  ;  his  heart  gave  way  under  the  pressure  of  ac- 
cumulated regrets,  and  floods  of  teuis  poured  from  his 
eyes.  Deep  and  frequent  were  his  sighs,  but  none  an- 
swered him.  Friendship  was  far  distant;  and  where 
was  that  gentle  being  who  would  have  soothed  his  sor- 
row on  her  bosom  ?  She  it  was  he  lamented.  "  Dreary, 
dreary  solitude  !"  cried  he,  looking  around  him  with  an 
aghast  perception  of  all  that  he  had  lost:  "how  have  I 
been  mocked  for  these  three  long  years  1  What  is  re- 
nown, what  the  loud  acclaim  of  admiring  throngs,  what 


S24  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

the  bended  knees  of  worshipping  gratefulness,  bftt 
breath  and  vapour  1"  It  seems  to  shelter  the  mountain's 
top :  the  blast  comes ;  it  rolls  from  its  sides ;  and  the 
lonely  hill  is  left  to  all  the  storm !  So  stand  I,  my  Ma- 
rion, when  bereft  of  thee.  In  weal  or  woe,  thy  smiles^, 
thy  warm  embrace,  were  mine :  my  head  reclined  on 
that  faithful  breast,  and  still  I  found  my  home,  my  hea- 
ven. But  now,  desolate  and  alone,  ruin  is  around  me. 
Destructions  wait  on  all  who  would  steal  one  pang  from 
the  racked  heart  of  William  Wallace  I  even  pity  is  no 
more  for  me  ! — Take  me  then,  O  !  Power  of  Mercy  !'* 
cried  he,  stretching  forth  his  hands,  "  take  me  to  thy- 
self!" 

A  peal  of  thunder  at  these  words  burst  on  his  ear, 
and  seemed  to  roll  over  his  tent,  till  passing  off  to- 
wards the  west  it  died  away  in  a  long  and  solemn 
sound.  Wallace  rose  from  his  knee,  on  which  he  had 
sunk  at  this  awful  response  to  his  heaven-directed  ad- 
juration :  "Thou  callest  me,  my  father  1"  cried  he, 
with  a  holy  confidence  dilating  his  soul ;  "  I  go  from  » 
the  world  to  thee  I — I  come  and  befoi'e  thy  altars  shall 
know  no  human  weakness." 

In  a  paroxysm  of  sacred  enthusiasm  he  rushed  from 
the  tent,  and  reckless  whither  he  went,  struck  into 
the  depths  of  Roslyn  woods.  With  the  steps  of  the 
,wind  he'picrced  their  remotest  thickets,  till  he  reach- 
fed  the  most  distant  of  the  Esk's  tributary  streams:  but 
that  did  not  stop  his  course,  he  bounded  over  it,  and 
ascending  its  moon-light  bank,  was  startled  by  the 
sound  of  his  name.  Grimsby,  attended  by  a  youth, 
stood  before  him.  The  veteran  expressed  amazement 
at  meeting  his  master  alone  ac  this  hour  unhelmeted  •• 
and  unarmed,  in  so  dangerous  a  direction.  "  The  ^ 
road,"  said  he,  "  between  this  and  Stirling,  is  beset 
with  your  enemies."  W^allace  instead  of  noticing  this 
information,  inquired  of  the  soldier  what  news  he 
brought  from  Hunting-tower.  "  The  worst,"  said  he. 
— "  By  this  lime  the  royal  Bruce  is  no  more  !"  Wal- 
lace gasped  convulsively,  and  fell  against  a  tree. 
Grimsby  paused.  In  a  few  minutes  the  heart-struck 
chief  was  able  to  speak  ;  "  Listen  not  to  my  groans 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  325 

for  unhapp)^  Scotland  !"    cried  he,  "  shew  me  all  that 
is  in  this  last  phial  of  wrath." 

Grimsby,  with  as  much  caution  as  he  could,  inform- 
ed him  that  Bruce  was  so  far  recovered  as  to  have  left 
his  couch  yestei'day,  when  at  noon  a  letter  was  brought 
to  Lady  Helen,  who  was  sitting  with  him.  She  open- 
ed it ;  and  having  read  only  a  few  lines  fell  senseless 
into  the  arms  of  her  sister.  Bruce,  alarmed  for  Ruth- 
yen,  instantly  snatched  up  the  vellum ;  but  not  a  word 
i  did  he  speak  till  he  had  perused  it  to  the  end.  It  was 
from  the  Countess  of  Strathearn,  cruelly  exulting  in 
what  she  termed  the  demonstration  of  Wallace's  guilt; 
and  congratulating  herself  on  having  been  the  primary 
means  of  discovering  it,  ended  with  a  boast  that  his 
once  adoring  Scotland  now  held  him  in  such  detesta- 
tion as  to  have  doomed  him  to  die.  It  was  this  denun- 
ciation which  had  struck  to  the  soul  of  Helen ;  and 
while  the  anxious  Lady  Ruthven  removed  her  inani- 
mate form  into  another  room,  he  read  the  barbarous 
triumphs  of  this  disappointed  woman*  "  No  power  on 
earth  can  save  him  now,"  continued  she ;  "  your  dot- 
ing heart  must  yield  him,  Helen,  to  another  rest  than 
your  bridal  chamber.  His  iron  breast  shall  meet  with 
others  as  adamantine  as  his  own.  A  hypocrite  !  he  felt 
not  pity,  he  knows  no  beat  of  human  sympathies,  and, 
like  a  rock  he  will  fall,  unpitied,  undeplored — Unde- 
plored  by  all  but  you,  silly,  self-deluded  girl !  My  no- 
ble lord,  the  princely  De  Warenne,  informs  me  that 
your  Wallace  is  outlawed  by  his  own  country,  and  a 
price  set  upon  his  head  by  ours:  hence,  there  is 
safety  for  him  no  where.  Those  he  has  outraged 
shall  be  avenged  :-^and  his  cries  for  mercy !  who  will 
answer  them  ?  No  voice  on  earth.  For  none  will  dare 
support  the  man  whom  both  friends  iind  enemies  aban- 
don to  destruction." 

"  Yes,"  cried  Bruce,  starting  from  his  seat,  "  I  will 
support  him,  thou  damned  traitoress  1  Bruce  will  de- 
clare himself  1 — Bruce  will  throw  himself  before  his 
friend,  and  in  his  breast  receive  every  arrow  meant  for 
that  godlike  heart !  Yes,"  he,  glancing  on  the  terrified 
looks  of  Isabella,  wiio  believed  that  his  delirium  was 
returned,  "  I  would  snatch  him  in  these  arms  from  the 

VOL^    IT.  EE 


.26  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEI^S 

flames,  did  all  the  fiends  of  hell  guard  the  infernal 
fire  !'*  Not  a  word  more  did  he  utter,  but  darting  into 
his  apartment,  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  seen  before 
the  Barbican  gate  armed  from  head  to  foot  and  calling 
on  Grimsby  to  bring  him  a  horse.  Grimsby  obeyed ;  and 
at  that  moment  Lady  Helen  appeared  from  the  window, 
wringing  her  hands  and  exclaiming.  "  Save  him,  for 
the  love  of  heaven,  save  him !"  "  Yes,"  cried  Bruce, 
"  or  you  see  me  no  more."  And  striking  his  rowels 
into  his  horse,  he  was  out  of  sight  in  an  instant. 

Grimsby  followed,  and  came  in  view  of  him  just  as 
he  was  attempting  to  cross  a  wide  fissure  in  the  rocky 
path  :  the  horse  struck  his  heel  against  a  loose  stone 
as  he  made  the  leap,  and  it  giving  way,  he  lost  his 
spring  and  fell  immediately  into  the  deep  ravine.  At 
the  moment  of  his  disappearance,  Grimsby,  with  a  cry 
of  horror  rushed  towards  the  spot  and  saw  the  horse 
struggling  in  the  last  agonies  of  death  at  the  bottom. — ^ 
Bruce  la.y  insensible  amongst  some  bushes  which  grew 
nearer  the  top.  With  difficulty  the  honest  English- 
man got  him  dragged  to  the  surface  of  the  hill ;  and 
finding  all  attempts  to  recover  him  ineffectual,  he  laid 
3iim  on  his  own  breast,  and  so  carried  him  slowly  back 
to  the  castle.  The  Sage  of  Ercildoun  restored  him  to 
life  but  not  to  recollection,  by  lettiiig  him  blood." 
The  fever  returned  on  him,  with  a  delirium  so  hope- 
less of  recovery,"  continued  Grimsby,  "  that  Lord 
Douglas  being  not  yet  returned  from  Scone  (where  he 
was  stationed  to  keep  all  in  order  during  our  prince's 
illness,)  the  Lady  Helen,  in  an  agony  of  grief,  sent  me 
with  this  youth  to  implore  you  to  go  to  Hunting-tower, 
All  the  ladies  say  they  will  conceal  you  till  Bruce  is  re- 
covered ;  and  then,  most  noble  Wallace,  he  will  pro- 
claim himself  and  again  move  with  you,  his  right 
liand,  to  achieve  his  crown.  But  should  he  be  torn 
from  us.  Loch-awe  is  in  arms,  and  the  kingdom  may 
be  yours." 

"  Send  me,"  cried  Walter  Hay  falling  at  his  feet, 
'«  send  me  back  to  Lady  Helen,  and  let  me  tell  her 
that  our  benefactor,  the  best  guardian  of  our  country, 
will  not  abandon  us !  Should  you  depart,  Scotland's 
genius  will  go  Vv-ith  you  ;  again  she  must  sink,  again 


i 


THf:  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  3^; 

she  will  be  in  ruins.  De  Valence  v/ill  regain  posses- 
sion of  my  dear  lady,  and  you  will  not  be  near  to  save 
her/'     - 

"  Grimsby,  Walter,  my  faithful  friends  1"  cried  Wal  ■ 
lace  in  an  agitated  voice  !  "  I  do  not  abandon  Scotland  : 
she  drives  me  from  her.  ^Vould  she  have  allowed  me, 
I  would  have  borne  her  in  iny  arms  until  my  latest 
g'asp ;  but  it  must  not  be  so.  I  resign  her  into  the  Al- 
mighty's hands  to  which  I  commit  myself:  they  w^ili 
also  preserve  the  Lady  Helen  from  violence.  Bruce 
is  with  her. — If  he  lives  he  will  protect  her  for  my 
sake  ;  and  should  he  die,  Bothwell  and  Ruthven  will 
cherish  her  for  their  own."  "  But  you  will  go  to  her,"' 
said  Grimsby.  "Disguised  in  these  peasant's  gar- 
ments, which  we  have  brought  for  the  purpose,  you 
may  pass  through  the  legions  of  the  Regent  v,-ith  per- 
fect security.''*  "  Let  me  implore  you,  if  not  for  your 
own  sake,  for  ours ! — Pity  our  desolation,  and  save 
yourself  for  them  who^  can  know  no  safety  v/hen  you 
are  gone  T'  Waiter  clung  by  his  arm  as  he  uttered 
this  supplication.  Wallace  looked  tenderly  upon  him: 
— "  I  would  save  myself;  and  I  v/ill.  please  God,"  said 
he,  "  but  by  no  means  unworthy  of  myself.  I  go,  but 
?iot  under  any  disguise. — Openly  have  i  defended  Scot- 
land, and  openly  will  I  pass  through  her  lands.  NonCj 
who  would  not  be  m.ore  doubly  accurst  than  the 
m.urderer  Cain,  will  venture  to  impede  m.y  steps. 
The  chalice  of  heaven  consecrated  me  the  champion 
of  my  country,  and  no  Scot  dare  lift  a  hostile  hand 
against  this  anointed  head." 

"  Whither  do  you  go  ?"  cried  Grimsby.  "  Let  me 
follow  you,  in  joy  or  sorrow  1"  "  And  me  too,  my  be- 
nefactor 1"  rejoined  Walter ;  "  and  when  you  look  on 
me,  think  not  that  Scotland  is  altogether  ungratetul  !'* 

"  My  faithful  friends,"  returned  he,  "  whither  I  go, 
I  must  go  alone.  And,  as  a  proof  of  your  love,  grant 
Tiie  your  obedience  this  once.  Rest  amongst  tiiese 
thickets  till  morning. — I  would  not  have  my  good  Lan- 
arkers  disturbed  sooner  than  is  needful  by  the  evil 
news  you  bring.  At  sun-rise  you  may  join  thc^ir  camp : 
then  you  will  know  my  destination.  But  till  Bruce 
proclainis  hiiyiself  at  the  head  of  his  country's  armies. 


328  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

for  my  sake  never  reveal  to  mortal  man  that  he  who 
lies  debilitated  by  sickness  at  Hunting-tower,  is  other 
than  Sir  Thomas  de  Longueville."  "  Rest  we  cannot," 
replied  Grimsby,  "  but  still  we  will  obey  our  master. 
You  tell  me  to  adhere  to  Bruce  and  to  serve  him  till 
the  hour  of  his  death:  1  will — but  should  he  die,  then 
1  may  seek  you  cut  and  again  be  your  faithful  servant?" 
-'  You  will  find  mc  before  the  cross  of  Christ,"  return- 
Wallace,  "  with  saints  my  fellow  soldiers,  and  God 
my  only  kingl  Till  then  Grimsby,  farewell.  Walter, 
carry  my  fidelity  to  your  mistress.  She  will  share  my 
thoughts  with  the  Blessed  Virgin  of  Heave«  ;  for  in 
all  my  prayers  shall  her  name  be  remembered." 

Grimsby  and  Walter,  struck  by  the  holy  solemnity  of 
his  manner,  fell  on  their  knees  before  him.  Wallace 
raised  his  hands :  "  Bless,  Oh,  Father  of  Light,  "  cried 
he,  "  bless  this  unhappy  land  when  Wallace  is  no 
more:  and  let  his  memory  be  lost  in  the  virtues  and 
prosperity  of  Robert  Bruce  !" 

Grimsby  svmk  on  the  earth,  and  gave  way  to  a  burst 
of  manly  sorrow.  Walter  hid  his  weeping  face  in  the 
folds  of  his  master's  mantle,  and  while  he  firmly  grasp- 
ed it  inly  vowed  that  no  force  should  separate  him  from 
his  benefactor  and  lord  :  but  in  the  midst  of  his  grief 
he  felt  the  stuff  he  held  loose  in  his  hand,  and  looking 
up,  saw  that  the  plaid  to  which  he  clung  was  all  that 
remained  of  Wallace  :— he  had  disappeared/^^ 


CHAP-  XXX. 

Vv  ALLACE  having  iwrned  abruptly  away  from  hi!> 
lamenting  servants,  struck  into  the  deep  defiles  of  the 
Pentland  hills  :  and  deeming  it  probable  that  the  deter- 
mined affection  of  some  of  his  friends  might  urge  them 
to  dare  the  perils  attendant  on  his  fellowship,  he  hesi- 
tated a  moment  v/hich  path  to  take,  (^.ertainly  not  to- 
wards Hunting-tower,  to  bring  immediate  destruction 
on  its  royal  inhabitant.  Neither  to  any  chieftain  of  the 
Highlands,  to  give  rise  to  a  spirit  of  civil  warfare 
\vhich  might  not  afterwards  be  sanctioned  by  its  only 


I 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  329 

just  excuse,  the  appearance  and  establishment  of  the 
lawful  prince.  Neither  would  he  pursue  the  eastern 
track;  for  in  that  direction,  as  pointing  to  France,  his 
friends  would  seek  him. — He  therefore  turned  his 
steps  towards  the  ports  of  Ayr :  the  road  was  circuitous, 
but  it  M'ould  soon  enough  take  him  from  the  land  of  his 
fathers,  from  the  country  he  must  never  see  again. 

As  morning  dispelled  the  shades  of  night,  it  disco- 
vered still  more  dreary  glooms.  A  heavy  mist  hung 
over  the  hills  and  rolled  before  him  along  the  valley.  Still 
he  pursued  his  way,  although  as  day  advanced  the  va- 
pours collected  into  thicker  blackness,  and  floating 
down  the  heights  in  portentous  volumes,  at  last  burst 
in  a  torrent  of  overwhelming  rain.  All  was  darkened 
around  by  the  descending  water  ;  and  the  accumulating 
floods  dashing  from  the  projecting  craigs  above,  swel- 
led the  burn  in  his  path  to  a  roaring  river,  Wallace 
stood  in  the  midst  of  it,  with  its  wild  waves  breaking 
against  his  sides.  The  rain  fell  on  his  uncovered  head, 
and  the  chilling  blast  sighed  in  his  streaming  hair.— 
Looking  around  him,  he  paused  a  moment  amid  this 
tumult  of  nature  :  "  Must  there  be  strife  even  amongst 
the  elements,  to  shew  that  this  is  no  longer  a  land  for 
me  ? — Spirits  of  these  hills,"  cried  he,  "  pour  not  thus 
your  rage  on  a  banished  man ! — A  man  without  a  friend, 
without  a  home  ?"  He  started,  and  smiled  at  his  own 
adjuration.  "  The  spirits  of  my  ancestors  ride  not  in 
these  blasts  :  the  delegated  powers  of  heaven  launch 
not  this  tempest  on  a  defenceless  head  ;  'tis  chance  : 
but  affliction  shapes  all  things  to  its  own  likeness. 
Thou,  Oh  !  my  Father,  would  not  suff"er  any  demon  of 
the  air  to  bend  thy  broken  reed  !  Therefore,  rain  on  ye 
torrents ;  ye  are  welcome  to  William  Wallace.  He 
can  well  breast  the  mountain  storm,  who  has  stemmed 
the  ingratitude  of  his  country." 

Hills,  rivers,  and  vales,  were  measured  by  his  solita- 
ry steps,  till  entering  on  the  heights  of  Clydesdale  the 
broad  river  of  his  native  glen  spread  its  endeared  wa-- 
ters  before  him.  Not  a  wave  passed  along  that  had 
not  kissed  the  feet  of  some  scene  consecrated  to  his 
memory.  Before  him,  over  the  western  hills,  lay  the 
lands  vi  his  forefathers.     There  he  had  first  drawn  his 

E  E  2 


3  30  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS 

• 
breath  r  there  he  imbibed  from  the  lips  of  his  revered 
g-randfather,  now  no  more,  those  lessons  of  virtue  by 
which  he  had  lived,  and  for  which  he  was  now  ready  to 
die.  Far  to  the  left  stretched  the  wide  domains  of 
I^ammington  :  there  his  youthful  heart  first  knew  the 
pulse  of  love  ;  there  all  nature  smiled  upon  him,  for 
Marion  was  near,  and  hope  hailed  him  from  every  sun^ 
lit  mountain's  brow.  Onward,  in  the  depths  of  the 
cliffs, lay  Ellerslie,  where  he  had  tasted  the  joys  of  para- 
dise ;  but  all  there,  like  that  once  blessed  place,  now- 
lay  in  one  wide  ruin  1 

"  Shall  I  visit  thee  again  ?"  said  he,  as  he  hurried 
along'  the  beetling  eraigs  ;  "  Ellerslie  !  Ellerslie  !"  cri- 
ed he,  "'tis  no  hero,  no  triumphant  warrior,  that  ap- 
proaches I  Receive, — shelter,  thy  deserted,  widowed 
master !  I  come,  my  Marion,  to  mourn  thee  in  thine 
own  domains  !"  He  flew  forward  ;  he  ascended  the 
cliffs  ;  he  rushed  down  the  hazle-crowued  path-way,  but 
it  was  no  longer  smooth  ;  thistles  and  thickly-interwo- 
ven underwood,  obstructed  his  steps.  Breaking 
through  them  all,  he  turned  the  angle  of  the  rock,  the 
]ast  screen  to  the  view  of  his  once  beloved  home.  On 
this  spot  he  used  to  stand  on  moon-light  evenings, 
watching  the  graceful  form  of  his  Marion  as  she  passed 
to  and  fro  by  her  window,  preparing  for  her  nightly 
rest.  His  eye  now  turned  instinctively  to  the  same 
point ;  but  it  gazed  on  vacancy.  His  home  had  disap- 
peared :  one  solitary  tower  alone  remained,  standing 
like  "a  hermit  the  last  of  his  race,"  to  mourn  over  the 
desolation  of  all  with  which  it  had  once  been  surround- 
ed.^"^ Not  a  human  being  now  moved  on  the  spot 
which  three  years  before  was  thronged  with  his  grate- 
ful vassals.  Not  a  voice  was  now  heard,  where  then 
sounded  the  harp  of  Halbert ;  where  breathed  the  soul 
entrancing  song  of  his  beloved  Marion  I  "  Death  I" 
cried  he,  striking  his  breast,  "  how  many  ways  hast 
thou  to  bereave  poor  mortality  I  All,  all  gone  ! — My 
Marion  sleeps  in  Bothwell :  the  faithful  Halbert  at  her 
feet.  And  my  peasantry  of  Lanark,  how  many  of  you 
have  found  untimely  graves  in  the  bosom  of  your  vain- 
ly-rescued country  1" 

He  sprang  on  the   mouldering  fragments  heaped 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  So. 

over  the  pavement  of  wJiat  had  been  the  hall.  "  My 
wife's  blood  marks  these  stones  !"  cried  he.  He  flung 
himself  along  them,  and  a  groan  burst  from  his  heart. 
It  echoed  mournfully  from  the  opposite  rock. — He 
started,  and  gazed  around.  "  Solitude  1  solitude  1"  cried 
he,  with  a  faint  smile ;  "  nought  is  here  but  Wallace 
and  his  sorrow.  Marion  I  I  call,  and  even  thou  dost 
iiot  answer  me  ;  thou  who  ever  flew  at  the  sound  of  my 
voice  !  Look  on  me,  love,"  exclaimed  he,  stretching 
his  arms  towards  the  sky  ;  '*  look  on  me :  and  for  once, 
for  ever,  cheer  thy  lonely,  heart-stricken  Wallace  1" 
Tears  choked  his  further  utterance ;  and  once  more 
laying  his  head  upon  the  stones,  he  wept  in  soul-dis- 
solving sorrow  till  exhausted  nature  found  repose  in 
sleep. 

The  sun  was  gilding  the  grey  summits  of  the  ruined 
tower  under  whose  shadow  he  lay,  when  Wallace  slow- 
ly opened  his  eyes ;  and  looking  around  him,  he  smote 
his  breast,  and  with  a  heavy  groan  sunk  back  upon  the 
stones.  In  the  silence  which  succeeded  this  burst  of 
memory  he  thought  he  heard  a  rustling  near  him,  and  a 
half-suppressed  sigh.  He  listened  breathlessly.  The 
sigh  was  repeated. — He  gently  raised  himself  on  his 
hand,  and  with  an  expectation  he  dared  hardly  whisper 
to  himself,  he  turned  towards  the  spot  whence  the  sound 
proceeded.  The  branches  of  a  rose-tree,  once  a  favour- 
ite of  his  Marion,  shook  violently  and  scattered  the 
leaves  of  their  ungathered  flowers  upon  the  brambles 
wlrich  grew  beneath.  Wallace  rose  in  agitation;  and 
perceived  the  skirts  of  a  human  figure  which  had  re- 
treated behind  the  ruins.  He  advanced  towards  it, 
and  beheld  Edvrin  Ruthven.  The  moment  their  eyes 
met,  Edwin  precipitated  himself  at  his  feet  and  clinging 
to  him,  exclaimed,  "  Pardon  me  this  pursuit  ?  But  we 
meet  to  part  no  more  !"  Wallace  raised  him  and  strai- 
ned him  to  his  breast  in  silence.  Edv/in,  in  hardly  ar- 
ticulate  accents  continued  ;  "  Some  kind  power  check- 
ed your  hand  when  writing  to  your  Edwin.  You  could 
not  command  him  not  to  follow  you  I  you  left  the  letter 
unfinished  ;  and  thus  I  come  to  bless  you  for  not  con- 
demning me  to  die  of  a  broken  heart  1" "  I  did  not 

write  farewell  to  thee,"  cried  Wallace,  looking  rnourr- 


532  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

fully  on  him ;  "  but  I  meant  it :  for  I  must  part  from 
all  I  love  in  Scotland.  It  is  my  doom.  This  country 
needs  me  not ;  and  1  have  need  of  heaven.  I  go  into 
hs  outcourts  at  Chartres.  Follow  me  there,  dear  boy, 
"vvlien  thou  hast  accomplished  thy  noble  career  on  the 
earth,  and  then  our  grey  hairs  shall  mingle  together 
over  the  altar  of  the  God  of  Peace  :  but  no\v,  receive 
the  farewell  of  thy  friend. — Return  to  Bruce,  and  be  to 
him  the  dearest  representative  of  William  Wallace." — . 
*'  Never,  never!"  cried  Edwin,  "  Thou  alone  art  my 
prince,  my  friend,  my  brother,  my  all  in  this  world  !-— 
My  parents,  dear  as  they  are,  would  have  buried  my 
youth  in  a  cloister ;  but  your  name  called  me  to  hon- 
our ;  and  to  you,  in  life  or  death,  I  dedicate  my  being." 
' "  Then,"  returned  Wallace,  "  that  honour  sum- 
mons you  to  the  side  of  the  dying  Bruce.  He  is  now  in 
the  midst  of  his  foes." "  And  where  art  thou  ?"  in- 
terrupted Edwin ;  "  Who  drove  thee  hence,  but  ene= 
mies  ?  who  line  these  roads,  but  wretches  sent  to  betray 
their  benefactor  ?  No,  my  friend,  thy  fate  shall  be  my 
fate,  thy  woe  my  v;oe  I  We  live  or  die  tog'ether :  the 
field,  the  cloistei^,  or  the  tomb ;  all  shall  be  v/elcomed 
by  Edwin  Ruthven,  if  they  separate  him  not  from  theel" 
Seeing  that  Wallace  was  going  to  speak,  and  fearful 
that  it  vvas  to  repeat  his  commands  to  be  left  alone,  he 
suddenly  exclaim.ed  with  vehemence,  "  Father  of  men 
and  angels !  grant  nie  thy  favour,  only  as  I  am  true  to 
the  vow  I  have  s',vorn,  never  more  to  leave  the  side  of 
Sir  "William  Wallace !" 

To  urge  the  dangers  to  which  such  a  resolution 
would  expose  this  too  faithful  friend,  Wallace  knew 
would  be  in  vain  :  he  read  an  invincible  determination 
in  the  eye  and  gesture  of  Edwin  ;  and,  'therefore,  yiel- 
ding to  the  demands  of  friendship,  he  threw  himself  on 
his  neck.  "  For  thy  sake,  Edwin,  I  will  yet  bear  with 
mankind  at  large  !  Thy  bloom  of  honour  shall  not  be 
cropt  by  n>y  hand.  We  will  go  together  to  France,  and 
while  I  rest  under  the  lilies  of  its  good  king,  thou  shalt 
bear  the   standard  of  Scotland  in  the  land  of  our  ally, 

against  the  proud  enemies  of  Bruce." "  Make  of  me 

what  you  will;"  returned  Edwin,  pressing  his  hand  to 
his  lips ;  *'  only  do  not  divide  me  from  yourself!" 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  333 

Wallace  now  told  his  friend  that  it  was  his  design  to 
cross  the  hills  into  Ayrshire,  in  some  of  the  ports  of 
which  he  did  not  doubt  he  should  find  some  vessel 
bound  for  France.  This  design,  Edwin  overturned  by- 
telling  him,  that  in  the  moment  the  abthanes  re-pledged 
their  secret  faith  to  Edward,  they  sent  a  strong  guard  to 
Ayrshire,  to  watch  the  m.ovements  of  his  povrerful  re- 
lations, and  to  prevent  their  either  hearing  of,  or  march- 
ing to  the  assistance  of  their  wronged  kinsman.  Since 
then,  no  sooner  was  it  discovered  by  the  insurgent 
lords  at  Roslyn  that  Wallace  had  disappeared  from  the 
camp,  than  supposing  he  meant  to  appepJ  to  Philip, 
they  dispatched  expresses  all  along  the  western  and 
eastern  coasts,  from  the  Friths  of  Forth  and  Clyde  to 
those  of  Solway  and  Berwick  upon  Tweed,  to  intercept 
him.  Wallace,  on  finding  that  all  avenues  from  the 
southern  part  of  his  country  were  closed  upon  him,  de- 
termined to  try  the  north :  Some  bay  in  the  v/estern 
Highlands  might  open  its  yet  not  ungrateful  arms,  to 
set  its  benefactor  free.  "  And  if  not  a  by  ship,"  returned 
Edv/in,  "  a  fisher's  boat  shall  launch  us  from  a  country 
which  is  no  longer  worthy  of  you ; — and,  by  the  power 
of  Him  who  hushed  the  raging  waves  of  Galilee,  my 
master  will  yet  find  a  haven  and  a  friend  1" 

Their  course  was  then  taken  along  the  Cartlane 
craigs  at  a  distance  from  those  villages  and  mountain 
cots  which,  leaning  from  their  verdant  heights,  seemed 
to  invite  the  traveller  to  refreshment  and  repose. 
Though  the  sword  of  Wallace  had  won  them  this  quiet ; 
though  his  wisdom,  like  the  cornucopia  of  Ceres,  had 
spread  the  lately  barren  hills  with  beauteous  harvests, 
yet,  had  an  ear  of  corn  been  asked  in  his  name,  it  would 
have  been  denied.  A  price  was  set  upon  his  head  ;  aad 
the  lives  of  all  who  should  succour  him  would  be  for- 
feited ! — He  who  had  given  bread  and  homes  to  thou- 
sands, was  left  to  perish, — had  not  where  to  lay  his 
head.  Edwin  looked  anxiously  on  him  as  at  times  they 
sped  silently  along :  "Ahl"  thought  he,  "  this  heroic 
endurance  of  evil  is  the  true  cross  of  our  celestial  cap- 
tain !  Let  who  will  carry  its  painted  insignia  to  the  Ho- 
ly Land,  here  is  the  man  that  bears  the  real  substanccj 


334  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

and  walks  undismayed  in   the  path  of  his  sacrificed  < 
lord !" 

The  black  plumage  of  a  common  Highland  bonnet,  "jj 
which  Edwin  purchased  at  one  of  the  cottages  whither  ] 
he  had  gone  alone  to  buy  a  few  oaten  cakes,  hung  over  ] 
the  face  of  his  friend.     That  face  no  longer  blazed  with 
the  fire  of  generous  valour;  it  was  pale  and  sad: — but 
whenever  he  turned  his  eye  on  Edvvin,  the  shades  which 
seemed  to   envelope   it   disappeared ;    a  bright   smile 
spoke  the  peaceful   consciousness  within ;  and  a  look    | 
of  grateful  affection    expressed  his  comfort  at  having    j 
found  that  in  defiance  of  every  danger  he  was  not  yet  for-    ] 
saken.  Edwin's  happy  spirit  rejoiced  in  every  glad  beam 
which  shone  on  the  face  of  him  he  loved.     It  av^oke  fe- 
licity in  his  heart:  for  merely  to  be  on  occasions  near 
Wallace  and  to  share  his  confidence  with  others,  had 
always  filled  him  with  joy;  but  novv^  to  be  the  only  one 
on  whom  his  noble  heart  leaned  for  consolation,  was 
bliss  unutterable.     He  trod  in  air,  and  even  chid  his 
beating  heart  for  the  throbs  of  delight  which  seemed  to 
exult  when  his  friend  suffered  : — ^'But  not  so,"  ejacu- 
lated he  internally ;  "  it  is  delight  to  live  and  die  with 
thee.     And  if  it  be  such  pleasure  even  to  share  thy  ca- 
lamity ;  what  will  be  my  felicity  when  I  dwell  with  thee 
in  security  and  princely  honours  !  For  such,  dearest  of 
friends,  will  be  the  welcome  of  Philip  to  his  Lord  of 
Gascony  !"     These  thoughts  comforted  Edwin;  but  he 
did  not  allov/  them  to  escape  his  bosom. 

As  they  arrived  within  sight  of  the  high  towers  of 
Bothwell  Castle,  Wallace  stopped.  "  We  must  not  go 
thither,"  said  Ed\vin,  replying  to  the  sentiment  which 
spoke  from  the  eyes  of  his  friend ;  the  servants  of  my 
cousin  Andrew  may  not  be  as  faithful  as  their  lord !'' 
— '^  I  will  not  try  them  ;"  returned  Wallace  with  a  re- 
signed smile,  "  my  presence  in  Bothwell  chapel  shall 
not  pluck  danger  on  the  head  of  my  dauntless  Murray. 
She  wakes  in  heaven  for  me,  whose  body  sleeps  there  : 
and  knowing  Avhere  to  find  the  jewel,  my  friend  !  shall 
I  linger  over  the  casket  ?" 

While  he  yet  spoke,  a  chieftain  on  horse-back  sud- 
denly emerged  from  the  trees  which  led  to  the  castle, 
?.nd  drew  to  their  side.     Edwin  was  wrapped  In  hi^ 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  335 

J)Iaid ;  and  cautiously  concealing  his  face  that  no  chance 
of  his  being  recognised  might  betray  his  companion, 
Avalked  on  -without  once  looking  at  the  stranger,  the 
first  glance  at  whose  knightly  caparisoned  horse  had 
declared  his  quality.  But  Wallace  being  without  any 
shade  over  the  noble  contour  of  a  form  which,  for  ma- 
jesty and  grace  was  unequalled  in  Scotland,  was  not  to 
be  mistaken.  He  moved  swiftly  forward.  The  horse- 
man spurred  after  him.  Wallace  perceiving  himself 
pursued  and  therefore  known,  and  aware  that  he  must 
be  overtaken,  suddenly  stopped.  Edwin  in  a  moment 
drew  his  sword  and  would  have  given  it  into  the  hand 
of  his  friend,  but  W^allace  putting  it  back,  rapidly  an- 
swered ;  "  Leave  my  defence  to  this  unweaponed  arm. 
I  would  not  use  steel  against  my  countrymen,  but  none 
shall  take  me  while  I  have  a  sinev/  to  resist." 

The  chieftain  now  checked  his  horse  in  front  of  Wal- 
lace, and  respectfully  raising  his  visor,  discovered  Sir 
John  Menteith.  At  sight  of  him,  Edwin  dropped  the 
point  of  his  yet  uplifted  sword;  and  Wallace  stepping 
back,  "  Menteith,"  said  he,  "  I  am  sorry  for  this  ren- 
contre. If  you  would  be  safe  from  the  destiny  which 
pursues  me,  you  must  retire  immediately,  and  forget 
that  Ave  have  met." — "  Never !"  cried  Menteith,  "  I 
know  the  ingratitude  of  an  envious  country  drives  the 
bravest  ©f  her  champions  from  its  borders ;  but  I  also 
know  what  belongs  to  myself!  To  serve  you  at  all  ha- 
zards ;  and  in  my  castle  of  Newark  on  the  Frith  of 
Clyde  to  demonstrate  my  sense  of  the  dangers  you  once 
incurred  for  me.  I  therefore  thank  my  fortune  for  this 
rencontre. 

In  vain  Wallace  urged  his  determination  not  to  bring 
peril  on  even  the  obscurest  of  his  countrymen,  by  so- 
journing under  any  roof  till  he  were  far  from  Scotland. 
In  vain  he  pointed  to  Menteith  the  outlawry  which 
would  await  him  should  the  infuriate  abthanes  discover 
that  he  had  given  their  self-created  enemy  a  shelter. 
Menteith,  after  as  unsuccessful  persuasions  on  his  side, 
at  last  declared  that  he  knew  a  vessel  was  now  laying  at 
Newark  in  which  Wallace  might  embark  without  enter- 
ing any  house.  He  ended  with  imploring  that  his  friend 
would  allow  him  to  be  his  guide  to  its  anchorage.     To 


oS6  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

enforce  this  supplication  he  threw  himself  off  his  horse, 
and  leaving  it  to  stray  whither  it  would,  with  protesta- 
tions of  fidelity  that  trampelled  on  all  dangers  he  en- 
treated,  even  with  tears  and  the  most  vehement  gestures 
of  despair,  not  to  be  refused  the  last  comfort  which  he 
foresaw  he  should  ever  know  in  his  now  degraded 
country.  "Once  I  saw  Scotland's  steady  champion, 
the  brave  Douglas,  rifled  from  her  shores  !  Do  not  then 
doom  me  to  a  second  grief,  bitterer  than  the  first;  do 
not  you  yourself  drive  me  from  the  side  of  her  last  he- 
ro 1 — Ah  1  let  me  behold  you,  companion  of  my  school- 
days. Friend,  Leader,  Benefactor !  till  the  sea  wrests 
you  for  ever  from  my  eyes  \" — Exhausted  and  affected, 
Wallace  gave  his  hand  to  Menteith :  the  tear  of  grati- 
tude stood  in  his  eye.  He  looked  affectionately  from 
Menteith  to  Edwin,  from  Edwin  to  Menteith  ;  "  Wal- 
lace shall  yet  live  in  the  memory  of  the  virtuous  of  this 
land:  you,  my  friends,  prove  it.  I  go  richly  forth,  for 
the  hearts  of  good  men  are  my  companions." 

As  they  journeyed  along  the  devious  windings  of  the 
Clyde,  and  passing  at  a  distance  the  aspiring  turrets  of 
Rutherglen,  Edwin  pointed  to  them  and  said,  "  From 
that  church,  a  few  months  ago,  did  you  dictate  a  con- 
queror's terms  to  England  !" "  And  now  that  very 

England  makes  me  a  fugitive  1"  returned  Wallace. — 
'•'  Oh  !  not  England  !"  interrupted  Edwin,  "  you  bow  not 
to  her.     It  is  blind,  mad  Scotland,  who  thus  thrusts  her 

benefactor   from    her:" "Ah  I    then,   my  Edwin," 

rejoined  he,  "  read  in  rne  the  history  of  thousands ! 
So  various  is  the  fate  of  a  people's  idol :  to-day  he  is 
worshipped  as  a  God,  to-morrow  thrown  into  the  fire  1" 

Menteith  turned  pale  at  this  conversation,  and  quick- 
ening his  steps,  in  silence  hurried  past  the  opening  of 
the  valley  which  presented  the  view  of  Rutherglen. 

Night  overtook  the  travellers  at  the  little  viDage  of 
Lumloch,  about  two  hours  journey  from  Glasgrow. 
Here,  as  a  severe  storm  came  on,  Menteith  advised  his 
friends  to  take  shelter  and  rest.  "  As  you  object  to 
lodge  with  man,"  said  he,  "  you  may  sleep  secure  in  an 
old  ruined  barn  which  at  present  has  no  ostensible  own- 
er. I  saw  it  as  I  passed  this  way  from  Newark.  But 
I  rather  wish  you  would  forget  this  too  chary  regard 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEF'S.  337 

for  others,  and  lodge  with  me  in  the  neighbouring  cot- 
tage."— Wallace  was  insensible  to  the  pelting  of  the 
elements;  his  unsubdued  spirit  neither  wanted  rest  for 
mind  nor  body:  but  the  languid  voice  and  lingering 
step  of  the  young  Edwin  who  had  been  unused  to  such 

1  fatigue  on  foot,  penetrated  his  heart;  and  notwithstand- 
ing that  the  resolute  boy,  on  the  first  proposal  of  Men- 
teith,  suddenly  rallied  himself  and  declared  he  was 
neither  weary  nor  faint,  Wallace  saw  that  he  was  both, 

i  and  yielded  his  consent  to  be  conducted  from  the 
storm.  "  But  not,"  said  he,  "  into  the  house.  We  will 
go  into  the  barn ;  and  there,  on  the  dry  earth,  my  Ed- 

Iwin  and  I  will  sleep.'* 
Menteith  did  not  oppose  him  farther,  and  pushing 
open  the  door,  Wallace  and  Edwin  entered.  Their 
friend  soon  after  followed  with  a  light,  which  he  brought 
from  the  cottage,  and  pulling  down  some  upheaped 
straw,  strewed  it  on  the  ground  for  a  bed.  "  Here  I 
shall  sleep  like  a  prince  1"  cried  Edwin,  throwing  him- 
self along  the  scattered  truss.  "But  not,"  returned 
Menteith,  "till  I  have  disengaged  you  from  your  wet 
garments  ;  and,  for  the  sake  of  future  scenes  of  prow- 
ess preserved  your  arms  and  brigandine  from  the  rust 
of  this  night."  Edwin,  sunk  in  weariness,  said  little 
in  opposition;  and  having  suffered  Menteith  to  take 
away  his  sword,  and  dagger,  and  to  unbrace  his  plated 
vest,  dropped  at  once  on  the  straw  in  a  profound  sleep. 

Wallace,  that  he  might  not  disturb  his  friend  by  the 
murmur  of  debate,  also  yielded  to  the  request  of  Men- 
teith, and  unbuckling  his  cuirass,  gave  it  to  him,  and  lay- 
ing himself  down  by  Edwin,  waved  their  conductor  a 
good  night.  Menteith  nodded  the  same,  and  closed  the 
door  upon  his  victims. 

Well  known  to  the  generals  in  King  Edward's  army, 
as  one  whose  soul  was  a  mere  counter  in  traffic,  Aymer 
de  Valence  (on  being  appointed  Lord  Warden  of  Scot- 
land in  the  room  of  De  Warenne,  who  was  incapa- 
citated by  the  wound  he  had  received  in  the  last  battle 
near  Dalkeith,)  told  his  king,  that  if  he  would  autho- 
rize him  to  ofter  an  earldom  with  adequate  estates  to 
Sir  John  Menteith  the  old  friend  of  Wallace,  he  was 
sure  so  rapacious  a  chieftain  would  traverse  sea  and 

VOL.  II.  FF 


533  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

land  to  put  that  formidable  Scot  into  the  hands  of  Eng- 
land. To  incline  Edward  to  the  proffer  of  so  large  a  bribe, 
De  Valence  instanced  Menteith*s  having  volunteered, 
while  he  commanded  with  Sir  Eustace  Maxwell  on  the 
Borders,  to  betray  the  forces  under  him  to  the  English 
general.  The  treachery  was  accepted;  and  for  its  ex- 
ecution he  received  a  casket  of  uncounted  gold.  Some 
other  poofs  of  his  devotion  to  England  were  mentioned 
by  De  Valence.  "  You  mean  his  devotion  to  money  !** 
replied  the  king ;  "  and  if  that  will  make  him  ours  at 
this  crisis,  give  him  overflowing  coffers,  but  no  earl- 
dom I — Though  I  must  have  the  head  of  Wallace,  I 
would  not  have  one  of  my  peers  shew  a  title  written  in 
his  blood.  Ill  deeds  must  sometimes  be  done,  but  wc 
do  not  emblazon  their  perpetrators  !" 

De  Valence  having  received  his  credentials,  sent 
Haliburton  (a  Scottish  prisoner,  who  bought  his  liberty 
too  dear  by  such  an  embassage,)  to  impart  to  Sir  John 
Ivlenteith  the  King  of  England's  proposal.  Menteith 
■was  then  castellan  of  Newark,  where  he  had  kept  close 
for  many  months  under  a  pretence  of  the  re-opening  of 
old  wounds;  but  the  fact  was,  his  treasons  were  con- 
nected with  so  many  accomplices  that  he  feared  some 
disgraceful  disclosure,  and  therefore  kept  out  of  the 
way  of  exciting  any  public  attention.  Avarice  was  his 
master  passion  ;  and  his  suspicions  that  there  was  trea- 
sure in  the  iron  box  which  he  had,  unwitting  of  such  a 
circumstance  consigned  to  Wallace,  first  shewed  to 
him  his  idolatry  of  gold.  His  murmurs  for  having 
allowed  the  box  to  leave  his  possession,  gave  the  alarm 
which  caused  the  disasters  at  Ellerslie  and  his  own  im- 
mediate imprisonment.  The  lieutenant  at  Lanark, 
after  the  death  of  Heselrigge,  sent  Menteith  then  his 
prisoner,  towards  Stirling,  for  Cressingham  to  punish 
according  to  his  pleasure.  Sir  John  made  his  escape 
from  the  party  that  conveyed  him,  but  in  flying  through 
a  wood  fell  into  Soulis's  hands.  That  inhuman  chief- 
tain threatened  to  return  him  immediately  to  his  dun- 
geons;, and  to  avoid  such  a  misfortune,  Menteith  en- 
gaged in  the  conspiracy  to  bring  Lady  Helen  from  the 
priory  to  the  arms  of  this  monster.  On  her  escape, 
the  infuriate  Soulis  would  have  wreaked  his  vengeance 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  339 

on  his  vile  coadjutor  by  surrendering  him  to  his  ene- 
mies, but  Menteith,  aware  of  his  design,  fled,  and  fled 
even  into  the  danger  he  would  have  avoided.  He  fell 
in  with  a  roaming  party  of  Southrons,  who  conveyed 
him  to  Ayr.  His  short  sojourn  with  Soulis  had  plunged 
his  soul  deep  in  guilt.  He  had  once  immolated  his 
honour,  and  he  now  kept  no  terms  with  conscience. 
Arnulf  soon  understood  what  manner  of  man  was  i^i 
his  custody ;  and  by  sharing  with  him  the  pleasures  of 
his  table,  and  giving  him  certain  divisions  of  the 
plunder  that  was  daily  brought  in,  he  learnt  from  him 
all  the  information  respecting  the  strength  and  riches 
of  the  country  that  was  in  his  power  to  communicate. 
His  after  history  was  a  series  of  treacheries  to  Scot- 
land, never  discovered  ;  and  in  return  for  them,  an  ac- 
cumulation of  wealth  from  England,  the  contemplation 
of  which  seemed  to  be  his  sole  enjoyment.  This  new 
offer  of  De  Valence's  was  therefore  greedily  embraced. 
He  happened  to  be  at  Rutherglen  when  Haliburton 
brought  the  proposal ;  and  in  the  cloisters  of  its  ^°^ 
church  was  its  fell  agreement  signed.  He  transmitted 
back  his  oath  to  De  Valence,  that  he  would  die  or  win 
his  hire  : — and  having  dispatched  spies  to  the  camp  at 
Roslyn,  as  soon  as  he  v/as  informed  of  Wallace's  disap- 
pearr.nce  he  judged  from  his  knowledge  of  that  chief's 
retentive  anections,  that  whithersoever  he  intended 
finally  to  go,  he  would  first  visit  Ellerslie  and  the  tomb 
of  his  wife.  According  to  this  opinion,  he  planted  his 
emissaries  in  favourable  situations  on  the  road,  and 
then  proceeded  to  intercept  his  victim  at  the  probable 
places. 

Not  finding  him  at  Bothwell,  he  was  just  issuing 
forth  to  take  the  way  to  Ellerslie,  when  the  object  of 
his  search  presented  himself  at  the  opening  of  the  wood. 

Triumphant  in  his  deceit,  this  master  of  hypocrisy 
left  the  barn  in  which  he  had  seen  Wallace  and  his 
young  friend  lie  down  on  that  ground  from  which  ho 
had  determined  they  should  never  more  arise.  Aware 
that  the  unconquerable  soul  of  Wallace  would  never 
allow  himself  to  be  taken  alive,  he  had  stipulated  with 
De  V^alence  that  the  delivery  of  his  head  should  entitle 
him  to  a  full  reward.     From  Rutherglen  to  Lumloch, 


340  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

no  place  had  presented  itself  in  which  he  thought  ht 
could  judiciously  plant  an  ambuscade  to  surprise  the 
unsuspecting  Wallace.  But  in  this  village  he  had  sta- 
tioned so  large  a  force  of  ruthless  savages  brought  for 
this  purpose,  by  Halibuiton,  from  the  Irish  Island  of 
Rathlin  that  their  employer  had  hardly  a  doubt  of  this 
night  being  the  last  of  his  too-trusting  friend's  exist- 
ence. These  Rathliners  neither  knew  of  Wallace  nov 
his  exploits  ;  but  the  lower  order  of  Scots,  however 
they  might  fear  to  succour  his  distress,  loved  his  per- 
son, and  felt  so  bound  to  him  by  his  actions,  that 
Menteith  durst  not  apply  to  any  one  of  them  to  second 
his  villany. 

The  hour  of  midnight  had  passed,  and  yet  he  could 
not  summon  courage  to  lead  his  men  to  their  nefarious 
attack.  Twice  they  urged  him,  before  he  arose  from 
his  affected  sleep  :  but  guilt  had  murdered  sleefi  !  and 
lie  lay  awake,  restless,  and  longing  for  the  dav/n  : — and 
yet  ere  that  dawn,  the  deed  was  to  be  accomplished 
which  was  to  entitle  him  to  half  the  treasury  of  King 
Edward  !  A  cock  crew  from  a  neighbouring  farm. 
"  That  is  the  sign  of  morning,  and  we  have  yet  done 
nothing  1"  exclaimed  a  surly  ruffian,  who  leaned  on  his 
baUle-axe  in  an  opposite  corner  of  the  apartment. 
"  No,  it  is  the  signal  of  our  enemy's  captivity  1'*  cried 
Ivlenteith, — "  Follow  me,  but  gently.  If  ye  speak  a 
word,  or  a  single  target  rattles  before  ye  all  fall  upon 
him,  we  are  lost ! — It  is  a  being  of  supernatural  might, 
and  not  a  mere  man  whom  you  go  to  encounter. — He 
that  first  disables  him  shall  have  a  double  reward." 

"  Depend  upon  us,"  returned  they ;  and  stealing 
cautiously  out  of  the  cottage  after ^their  leader,  they 
advanced  with  a  noiseless  step  towards  the  barn.  Men- 
teith paused  at  the  door,  making  a  sign  to  his  men  to 
halt  while  he  listened. — He  put  his  ear  to  a  crevice  :  not 
a  murmur  was  heard  within.  He  gently  raised  the 
latch,  and  setting  the  door  wide  open,  with  his  finger 
on  his  lip,  beckoned  his  followers.  They  breathlessly 
approached  the  threshold.  The  meridian  moon  shone 
full  into  the  hovel,  and  shed  a  broad  light  upon  their 
victims.  The  innocent  face  of  Edwin  rested  on  the  bo- 
som of  his  friend,  and  the  arm  of  Wallace  by  on  the 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  S4i 

straw  -with  which  he  had  covered  the  tender  body  of  his 
companion.     So  fair  a  picture  of  mortal  friendship  was 
never  before  beheld.     But  the  hearts  were  blind  which 
looked  on  it,  and  Menteith  giving  the  signal,  he   re- 
treated out  of  the  door  while  his  men  rushed  forward 
to  bind  Wallace  as  he  lay  ;  but  the  first,  in  his  eager- 
ness, striking  his  head  against  a  joist  in  the  roof  uttered 
a  fierce   oath.      The   noise    roused    Wallace,   whose 
wakeful  senses  had  rather  slumbered  than  slept,  and 
opening  his  eyes  he  sprung  on  his  feet.     A  moment 
told  him  enemies  were  around. — Seeing  him  rise,  they 
precipitated   themselves    forward   with  imprecations. 
His  eyes  blazed  like  two  terrible  meteors,  and  with  a 
sudden  motion  of  his  arm  he  seemed  to  hold  them  at  a 
distance,  while  his  god-like  figure  stood  a  tower  in  col- 
lected  might.     Awe-struck,  the  men  paused,  but   it 
was  only  for   an   instant.     The   sight   of  Edwin  now 
starting  from  his  sleep,   his  aghast  countenance  a«s  he 
felt  for  his  weapons,  his  cry  when  he  recollected  they 
were  gone,  inspired  the  assassins  with  fresh  courage. 
Battle-axes,  swords,   and  rattling  chains,  now  flashed 
before  the  eyes  of  Wallace.     The  pointed  steel  in  a 
hundred  places  entered  his  body,  while  with  part  of  n 
broken  bench  whieh  chanced  to  lie  near  him,  he  de- 
fended  himself  and  Edwin  from  this  merciless  host- 
Edwin,   seeing  nought   but  the   death  of  his   friend 
flitting  before  his  sight,  regardless  of  himself  made  a 
spring  from  his  side  and  snatched  a  dagger  from  the 
belt  of  one  of  the  murderers.     The  ruffian  next  him 
instantly  caught  the  intrepid  boy  by  the  throat,  and  in 
that  horrible  clutch  would  in  a  moment  have  deprived 
him  of  life  had  not  the  lion  grasp  of  Wallace  seized  the 
man  in  his  arms,  and  with  a  pressure  that  made  his 
mouth  burst  out  with  blood,  compelled  him  to  forego 
his  hold.     Edwin  released,  Wallace  dropped  his  assail- 
ant who  staggering  a  few  paces,  fell  senseless  to  the 
ground  and  the  instant  after  expired. 

The  conflict  now  became  doubly  desperate. — Edwin's 
dagger  twice  defended  the  breast  of  his  friend.  Two 
of  the  assassins  he  had  stabbed  to  the  heart "  Mur- 
der that  urchui  1"  cried  Menteith,  who  observing  from 
without  nil  tlmt  passed,  and  seeing  the  carnage  of  ius 
rr  2 


342  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

men,  feared  that  Wallace  might  yet  make  his  escape. 
"  Hah  !"  cried  Wallace  at  tlie  sound  of  Menteith's 
voice  giving  such  an  order; — "  Then  we  are  betrayed — 
but  not  by  heaven — Strike  one  of  you  that  angel  youth," 
cried  he,  "  and  you  will  incur  damnation  !" — He  spoke 
to  the  winds.  They  poured  towards  Edwin.  Wallace, 
with  a  giant's  strength,  dispersed  them  as  they  advan- 
ced :  the  beam  of  wood  fell  on  the  heads  and  struck 
the  breasts  of  his  assailants.  Himself,  bleeding  at  every 
pore,  felt  not  a  smart  while  yet  he  defended  Edwin. 
But  a  shout  was  heard  from  the  door :  a  faint  cry  was 
heard  at  his  side — He  looked'^eVind. — Edwin  lay  ex- 
tended on  the  ground  with  an  a%ow  quivering  in  his 
heart :  his  closing  eyes  still  looked  upwards  to  his  friend. 
The  beam  fell  from  the  hands  of  Wallace.  He  threw 
himself  on  his  knees  beside  him.  The  dying  boy  pressed 
his  hand  to  his  heart,  and  dropped  his  head  upon  his  bo- 
som— Wallace  moved  not,  spoke  not.  His  hand  v/as 
bathed  in  the  blood  of  his  friend,  but  not  a  pulse  beat 
beneath  it;  no  breath  warmed  the  paralyzed  chill  of  his 
face  as  it  hung  over  the  motionless  head  of  Edwin. 

The  men,  more  terrified  at  this  unresisting  stillness, 
than  even  at  the  invincible  prowess  of  his  arm,  stood 
gazing  on  him  in  mute  wonder.  But  Menteith,  in 
whom  the  fell  appetite  of  avarice  had  destroyed  every 
perception  of  humanity,  sent  in  other  ruffians  with 
new  thongs  to  bind  Wallace. — They  approached  him 
with  terror:  two  of  the  strongest,  stealing  behind  him, 
and  taking  advantage  of  his  face  being  bent  upon  that 
of  his  murdered  Edwin,  each  in  the  same  moment 
seized  his  hands.  As  they  griped  them  fast  between 
both  theirs,  and  others  advanced  eagerly  to  fasten  the 
bands,  he  looked  camly  up  ;  but  it  was  a  dreadful  calm, . 
it  spoke  of  despair,  of  the  full  completion  of  all  woe.— 
''  Bring  chains,'*  cried  one  of  the  men,  "  he  will  burst 
^hese  thongs." 

"  You  may  bind  me  with  a  hair,"  said  he,  "  I  con- 
tend no  more."  The  bonds  were  fastened  on  his  wrists, 
and  then  turning  towards  the  lifeless  body  of  Edwin, 
3ie  raised  it  gently  in  his  arms.  The  rosy  red  of  youth 
yet  tinged  his  cold  cheek:  his  parted  lips  still  beamed 
>vith  a  smile^  but  the  breath  that  had  so  sweetly  inform- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  34<5 

edthem  wasflown. — "  O !  my  best brotherthat  ever  I  had 
in  the  world!"  cried  he,  in  a  sudden  transport,  and  kis- 
sing his  pale  forehead  ;  "  My  sincere  friend  in  my 
greatest  need  !  In  thee  was  truth,  manhood,  and  noble- 
ness ;  in  thee  was  all  man's  fidelity,  with  woman's  ten- 
derness. My  friend,  my  brother,  Oh!  would  to  God  I 
had  died  for  thee  1"(P) 


CHAP.  XXXI. 

XiORD  Ruthven  had  hardly  recovered  from  the  shock 
which  the  perusal  of  Wallace's  solemn  adieu,  and  the 
confirmation  which  the  recitals  of  Grimsby  and  Hay 
brought  of  his  determined  exile  had  given  to  his  worth- 
devoted  heart,  when  he  was  struck  with  a  new  conster- 
nation by  the  flight  of  his  son. — A  billet,  which  Edwin 
had  left  with  Scrymgeour  who  guessed  not  its  contenis? 
told  his  father,  that  he  was  gone  to  seek  their  friend  and 
to  unite  himself  for  ever  with  his  fortunes. 

Bothwell,  not  less  eager  to  preserve  Wallace  to  the 
world,  with  an  intent  to  persuade  him  to  at  least  aban- 
don his  monastic  project,  lost  not  an  hour,  but  set  ofll' 
from  the  nearest  port  direct  for  France,  hoping  to  ar- 
rive before  his  friend,  and  to  engage  the  French  mon- 
arch to  assist  in  preventing  so  grievous  a  sacrifice. 
Ruthven,  meanwhile,  fearful  that  the  unarmed  Wallace 
and  the  self-regardless  Edwin,  might  fall  into  the  hands 
of  the  venal  v/retches  widely  dispersed  to  seize  the 
chief  and  his  adherents,  sent  out  the  Lanarkers  (eager 
to  embrace  the  service)  in  different  parties  and  in  di- 
vers disguises  to  pursue  the  roads  it  was  probable  he 
might  take,  and  finding  him,  guard  him  safely  to  the 
coast.  Till  Ruthven  should  receive  accounts  of  their 
success,  he  forbore  to  forward  the  letter  which  Wallace 
had  left  for  Bruce,  or  to  increase  the  solicitude  of  the 
already  anxious  inhabitants  of  Hunting-tower,  with 
any  intimation  of  what  had  happened.  But  on  the 
fourth  day,  Scrymgeour  and  his  party  returned  with 
the  horrible  narative  of  Lumloch. 

Wallace,  after  the  murder  of  his  youthful  friend,  had 


344  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

been  loaded  with  irons,  and  was  conveyed,  so  unresist- 
ingly that  he  seemed  in  a  stupor,  on  board  a  vessel,  to 
be  carried  immediately  to  the  tower  of  London,  to  re- 
ceive sentence  of  death. — Sir  John  Menteith,  though 
he  never  ventured  into  his  sight,  attended  as  his  gaoler 
and  as  the  false  witness  who  was  to  put  a  vizard  upon 
cruelty,  and  swear  away  his  life.  The  horror  and  grief 
of  Ruthven  at  these  tidings  were  unutterable :  and 
Scrymgeour,  to  turn  the  tide  of  the  bereaved  father's 
thoughts  to  the  inspiring  recollection  of  the  early 
glory  of  his  son,  proceeded  to  narrate,  that  he  found 
the  beauteous  remains  lying  in  the  hovel  bedecked  with 
flowers  by  the  village  girls,  who  were  weeping  over  it 
andlamenting  the  pityless  heart  which  could  slay  such 
youth  and  loveliness.  To  bury  him  in  so  obscure  a  spot, 
Scrymgeour  would  not  allow,  and  he  had  sent  Stephen 
Ireland  with  the  sacred  corse  to  Dumbarton,  with  orders 

to  see  him  entombed  in  the  chapel  of  that  fortress 

"  It  is  done,"  continued  the  worthy  knight,  "  and  those 
towers  he  so  bravely  scaled,  will  siand  for  ever  the  mon- 
ument  of  Edwin  Ruthven  !"  This  wound  had  struck 
deep  into  the  heart  of  the  father. — He  felt  it  in  his 
soul,  but  he  did  not  complain.  ^'  Scrymgeour,*'  said  he 
'■'  the  shafts  fall  thick  upon  us,  but  we  must  fulfil  our 
duty."  Cautious  of  inflicting  too  heavy  a  blow  on  the 
fortitude  of  his  wife  and  Helen,  he  commanded  Grims- 
by and  Hay  to  withhold  froiy  every  body  at  Hunting- 
tower  the  tidings  of  its  young  lord's  fate  ;  and  then  he 
dispatched  them  with  the  letter  of  Wallace  to  Bruce, 
and  the  dreadful  information  of  Menteith*s  treachery. 
Ruthven  ended  his  short  epistle  to  his  wife,  by  saying 
he  should  quickly  follow  his  messenger,  but  that  at  pre- 
sent he  had  some  necessary  arrangements  to  make  be- 
fore he  could  entirely  abandon  the  Lowlands  to  the  tem- 
porary empire  of  the  seditious  chiefs. 

On  Grimsby's  arrival  at  Hunting-tower  he  was  con- 
ducted immediately  to  Bruce.  The  delirium  had  only- 
left  him  that  morning  ;  and  though  weak  and  lying  on 
his  couch  he  was  contending  with  Ercildcun  that  he 
should  be  able  to  set  out  for  Wallace's  camp  on  the  fol- 
lowing day,  when  Grimsby  entered  the  room.  The 
countenance  of  the  honest  Sovjthron  was  the  harbinger 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  U5 

of  his  news.  Lady  Helen  started  from  her  scat,  and 
Bruce,  stretchmg  out  his  arm,  eagerly  caught  the  pack- 
ets which  Grimsby  presented.  Isabella,  reading  her 
sister's  anxiety  in  her  looks,  inquired  if  all  were  well 
with  Sir  William  Wallace  ?  But  ere  he  could  make 
any  answer,  Lady  Ruthven  ran  breathlessly  into  the 
room  with  a  letter  open  in  her  hand  which  Hay  had  pre- 
viously delivered  to  her. — Bruce  had  just  read  the  first 
line  which  announced  the  captivity  of  Wallace,  and 
-with  a  cry  v/hich  pierced  through  the  souls  of  every 
one  present,  he  made  an  attempt  to  spring  from  the 
couch,  but  in  the  act  he  reeled,  and  fell  back  insensi- 
ble. The  apprehensive  heart  of  Helen  guessed  some 
direful  explanation  :  she  looked  with  speechless  in- 
quiry upon  her  aunt  and  Grimsby.  Isabella  and  Ercil- 
doun  hastened  to  Bruce,  and  Lady  Ruthven  being  too 

jnuch  alarmed  in  her  own  feelings  to  remark  the  aghast 
countenance  of  Helen,  made  her  seat  herself,  and  then 
read  to  her  from  Lord  Ruthven's  letter  the  brief  but  de- 
cisive account  of  Wallace's  dangerous  situation.  He- 
len listened  without  a  woM  :  her  heart  seemed  locked 
within  her,  that  it  should  utter  no  sound  ;  her  brain 
was  on  fire  ;  and  gazing  fixedly  on  the  floor,  all  that 
was  transacted  around  her  passed  unnoticed. 

Insensibility  did  not  long  shackle  the  determined 
Bruce.  The  energy  of  his  spirit,  struggling  to  gain 
the  side  of  his  most  dear  brother  in  this  his  extremest 
need  (for  he  well  knew  Edward's  impiicable  soul) 
roused  him  from  his  swoon. — W^ith  his  extended  arms 
dashing  away  the  restoratives  with  which  both  Isabella 
and  Ercildoun  hung  over  him,  he  would  have  sprung 
on  the  floor  had  not  the  latterheld  him  down.  "  With- 
hold me  not  1"  cried  he,  with  a  fierce  countenance, 
"  this  is  not  the  time  for  sickness  and  indulgence.  My 
friend  is  in  the  fangs  of  the  tyrant,  and  shall  I  lie  here  ? 

j  ■ — No,  not  for  all  the  empires  in  the  globe  will  I  be  de- 

'  'ained  another  hour." 

Isabella,  affrighted  at  the   furies  which  raged  in  his 

j  eyes,  but  yet  more  terrified  at  the  perils  attendant  on 
his  desperate  resolution,  threw  herself  at  his  feet  and 
implored  him  to  stay  for  her  sake.  "  No,"  cried  Bruce, 
forgetful  of  every   selfish  wish  in  the  sovereign  pas- 


1 


:H6  the  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

sion  ofhis  soul-devoted  gratitude  to  William  Wallace,  ^ 
"  not  for  thy  life,  Isabella,  which  is  dearer  to  me  than 
my  own !     Not  to   save  this  ungrateful  country  from 
the  doom  it  merits  I  would  I  linger  one  moment  from 
the  side  of  him  who  has  fought,  bled,  and  suffered  for 
mc  and  mine — who  is  now  treated  with  ignominy,  and 
^jentenced  to  die  for  my  delinquency! — Had  1  consent-  ., 
ed  to    proclaim  myself  on   my  landing,   secure  with  jj 
Bruce  the  king,  envy  would  have  feared  to  strike  :—  I 
Imt  I  must  first  win  a  fame  like  his  ! — And  while  I  lay  1 
Iierc,  they  tore  him  from  the  vain  and  impotent  Bruce  ! 
But,  Almighty  pardoner   of  my  sins  !"  cried  he  with 
vehemence,"  grant  me  strength  to  wrest  him  from  their 
"  gripe, and  I  will  go  bare-foot  to  Palestine  to  utter  all 
my  gratitude  I'* 

These  thoughts  created  such  a  tempest  in  the  breast 
of  the  prince,  that  Isabella  sunk  weeping  into  the  arms 
of  her  aunt,  and  the  venerable  Ercildoun,  wishing  to 
curb  an  impetuosity  which  might  only  involve  its  gener- 
ous agent  in  a  ruin  deeper  than  that  it  sought  to  re- 
venge, with  more  zeal  than  judgment  urged  to  the 
prince  the  danger  into  which  such  boundless  resent- 
ment would  precipitate  his  own  person.  At  this  inti- 
mation the  impassioned  Bruce,  stung  to  the  soul  that 
such  an  argument  could  be  expected  to  liave  any 
weight  with  him,  solemnly  bent  his  knee  and  clasping 
his  sword,  vowed  before  heaven  "  either  to  release 
Wallace  or *'  to  share  his  fate  !  he  would  have  ad- 
ded ;  but  Isabella,  watchful  of  his  words,  here  sudden- 
ly interrupted  him  by  throwing  herself  wildly  on  his 
neck  and  exclaiming — "Oh!  say  not  that!  Rather 
swear  to  pluck  the  tyrant  from  his  throne,  that  the  scep- 
tre of  my  Bruce  may  bless  England  as  it  will  yet  do  this 
unhappy  land  I"  "  She  says  right  !"  ejaculated  Ercil- 
doun in  a  prophetic  transport,  "  and  the  sceptre  of 
Bruce,  in  the  hands  of  his  offspring,  shall  bless  the  uni- 
ted countries  to  the  latest  generations  !  The  walls  of 
separation  shall  then  be  thrown  down,  and  England 
and  Scotland  be  one  people. "^*i^ 

Bruce  looked  stedfastly  on  the  sage  :  "  Then,  if  thy 
voice  utter  wholly  verity,  it  will  not  again  deny  my  call 
to    wield    the  power   what  heaven   bestows!  I  follow 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  t347 

niy  fate  !  To-morrow's  dawn  sees  me  in  the  path  to 
snatch  my  best  treasure,  my  counsellor,  my  guide,  from 
the  judgment  of  his  enemies: — or,  woe  to  England, 
and  to  all  of  Scotland  born  who  have  breathed  one  hostile 
word  against  his  sacred  life  ! — Helen,  dost  thou  hear 
mc  ?'*  cried  he  ;  "  Wilt  thou  not  assist  me  to  persuade 
thy  too  timid  sister  that  her  Bruce*s  honour,  his  happi- 
ness, lives  in  the  preservation  of  his  friend  ?  Speak  to 
her,  counsel  her,  sweet  Helen  ;  and  please  the  Almigh- 
ty arm  of  heaven,  I  will  reward  thy  tenderness  with  the 
return  of  Wallace  !'* 

Helen  gazed  intently  at  him  as  he  spoke.  She  smil- 
ed when  he  ended,  but  she  did  not  answer,  and  there 
was  a  wild  vacancy  in  the  smile  that  seemed  to  say  she 
knew  not  what  had  been  spoken  and  that  her  thoughts 
were  faraway.  Without  further  regarding  him  or  any 
who  were  present,  she  arose  and  left  the  room.  At 
this  moment  of  fearful  abstraction,  her  whole  soul  was 
bent,  with  an  intensity  that  touched  on  madness,  on  the 
executionof  a  project  which  had  rushed  into  her  mind 
in  the  moment  she  heard  of  Wallace's  deathful  captiv- 
ity. 

The  approach  of  night  favoured  her  design.  Hur- 
rying to  her  chamber  ;  she  dismissed  her  maids  with 
the  prompt  excuse  that  she  was  ill  and  desired  not  to  be 
disturbed  till  morning:  then  bolting  her  door,  she  quick- 
ly habited  herself  in  the  page's  clothes  which  she  had 
so  carefully  preserved  as  the  dear  memorial  of  her  hap- 
py days  in  France,  and  dropping  from  her  window  into 
the  park  beneath,  ran  swiftly  through  its  woody  pre- 
cincts towards  Dundee. 

Before  she  arrived  at  the  suburbs  of  Perth,  her  ten- 
der feet  became  so  blistered  that  she  found  the  necessity 
of  stopping  at  the  the  first  cottage.  Her  perturbed  spi- 
rits rendered  it  impossible  for  her  to  take  rest,  and  s-he 
answered  the  hospitable  offer  of  its  humble  owner  with  a 
request  that  he  would  go  into  the  town  and  immediately 
purchase  a  horse  to  carry  her  that  night  to  Dundee^ 
She  put  her  purse  into  the  man's  hand  as  she  spoke, 
and  he  being  willing  to  serve  the  young  traveller  in 
whatever  way  he  pleased,  without  further  discussion 
obeyed.     When  the  animal  was  brought,  and  the  honest 


348  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Scot  returned  her  the  purse  with  its  remaining  con»  ; 
tents,  she  divided  them  with  him,  and  turning  from  his  ' 
thanks  in  silence,  mounted  her  horse  and  rode  away.  > 
About  an  hour  before  dawn  she  arrived  within  view  ; 
of  the  ships  lying  in  the  harbour  at  Dundee.  At  thie 
sight  she  threw  herself  off  the  panting  animal  which  she 
had  urged  to  its  utmost  speed,  and  leaving  it  to  rest 
and  liberty,  hastened  to  the  beach.  A  gentle  breeze 
blew  freshly  from  the  north-west,  and  several  vesselsat 
that  moment  were  heaving  their  anchors  to  get  under 
weigh.  "Are  any,"  demanded  she,  "bound  for  the 
Tower  of  London  ?" — "  None,*'  was  the  reply.  Des- 
pair was  now  in  her  heart  and  gesture.  But  suddenly 
recollecting  that  in  dressing  herself  for  her  flight  she 
had  not  taken  off  the  jewels  which  she  usually  wore, 
she  exclaimed  with  renovated  hope,  "  Will  not  gold 
tempt  you  to  carry  me  thither  ?"  A  rough  Norwegian 
sailor  jumped  from  the  side  of  the  nearest  vessel,  and 
readily  answered  in  the  affirmative.  "  My  life,"  rejoin- 
ed she,  "  or  a  necklace  of  pearls  shall  be  yours  in  the 
moment  that  you  land  me  at  the  Tower  of  London." 
The  man,  seeing  the  youth  and  agitation  of  the  seem- 
ing boy  who  accosted  him,  doubted  his  power  to  per- 
form so  magnificent  a  promise,  and  was  half  inclined 
to  retract  his  assent ;  but  Helen  pointing  to  a  jewel  on 
her  finger  as  a  proof  that  she  did  not  speak  of  things 
beyond  her  reach,  he  no  longer  hesitated, and  pledging 
his  word  that,  wind  and  tide  in  his  favour,  he  would 
land  her  at  the  Tower  stairs,  she,  as  if  all  happiness 
must  meet  her  at  that  point,  sprung  into  his  vessel. 
The  sails  were  unfurled  ;  the  voices  of  the  men  chant- 
ed forth  their  cheering  responses  on  clearing  the  har- 
bour; and  Helen  throwing  herself  along  the  floor  of 
her  little  cabin,  silently  breathed  her  thanks  to  God  in 
that  prostration  of  body  and  soul,  for  being  indeed 
launched  on  the  ocean  whose  waves,  she  trusted,  would 
soon  convey  her  to  Wallace. 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  349 


CHAP.  XXXII. 

After  a  tedious  procrastination  occasioned  by  seve- 
ral calno3,  on  the  evening-  of  the  tenth  day  from  the  one 
in  which  Helen  had  e»;ibarked  on  board  the  little  ship 
of  Dundee,  it  entered  on  the  broad  bosom  of  the  Nore. 
While  she  sat  on  the  deck  watching  the  progress  of  the 
vessel  with  an  eager  spirit  which  would  gladly  have  ta- 
ken wings  to  have  flown  to  the  object  of  her  voyage, 
she  first  saw  the  majestic  waiters  of  the  Thames.  But 
it  was  a  tyrannous  iiood  to  her,  and  she  marked  not  the 
diverging  shores  crowned  with  palaces,  for  her  eyes 
looked  over  every  marbled  dome  to  seek  the  black  sum- 
mits of  the  Tower.  At  a  certain  point  the  captain  of 
the  vessel  spoke  through  his  trumpet  to  summon  a  pilot 
from  the  land. — In  a  few  minutes  he  was  obeyed:  and  the 
Englishman  taking  the  helm,  Helen  reclined  on  a  coii 
of  ropes  near  him,  and  listened  in  wordless  attention  to  a 
recital  which  bound  up  her  every  sense  in  that  of  hearing. 
The  captain,  who  declared  himself  a  Norwegian  by 
birth,  and  in  consequence  of  his  seafaring  life  a  Scot  by 
appellation  only,  jested  on  the  present  troubles  of  his 
adoptive  country,  and  added  that  he  thought  any  ruler 
the  right  who  gave  him  a  free  course  for  traffic.^ — In 
answer  to  this  remark  the  Englishman,  with  an  obser- 
vation not  very  flattering  to  the  Norwegian's  estimation 
of  right  and  wrong,  mentioned  the  capture  of  the  once 
renowned  champion  of  Scotland,  and  narrated  its  con- 
sequence. Even  the  enemy,  who  recounted  the  par- 
ticulars, shewed  a  truth  in  the  recital  which  shamed 
the  man  who  had  benefited  by  the  patriotism  he  affect- 
ed to  despise,  and  for  which  Sir  William  'vVallace  was 
imprisoned  and  now  likely  to  shed  his  blood. 

"  I  was  present,"  continued  the  pilot,  ^'  when  the 
brave  Scot  was  put  on  the  raft  which  carried  him 
through  the  traitor's  gate  into  the  Tower.  H>j  hands 
and  feet  were  bound  with  iron,  but  his  head,  owing  to 
faintness  from  the  wounds  he  had  received  atLumloch, 
was  so  bent  down  on  his  breast  as  he  reclined  on  the 
float,  that  I  could  not  then  see  his  face.— There  was  a 

VOL.    u  G  G 


550  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

great  pause ;  for  none  of  us  when  he  did  appear  11 
sight,  could  shout  over  the  downfal  of  so  merciful  a 
conqueror.  Many  were  spectators  of  this  scene, 
whose  lives  he  had  spared  on  the  fields  of  Scotland, 
and  my  brother  was  amongst  them.  However,  that  I 
might  have  a  distinct  view  of  the  man  who  had  so  long 
held  our  warlike  monarch  m  dread,  I  went  to  West- 
minster-hall on  the  day  that  he  was  to  be  tried.  The 
great  judges  of  the  land,  and  almost  all  the  lords  be- 
sides were  there ;  and  a  very  grand  spectacle  they 
made.  But  when  the  hall  door  was  opened,  and  the 
dauntless  prisoner  appeared,  then  it  was  that  I  saw  true 
majesty,  King  Edward  on  his  throne  never  looked 
with  such  a  royal  air.  His  very  chains  seemed  given 
to  be  graced  by  him,  as  he  moved  through  the  parting 
crowd  with  the  step  of  one  who  had  been  used  to  have 
all  his  accusers  at  his  feet.  His  head  was  now  erect, 
and  he  looked  with  undisturbed  dignity  on  all  around. 
The  Earl  of  Gloucester,  whose  life  and  liberty  he  had 
granted  at  Berwick,  sat  on  the  right  of  the  lord  chan- 
cellor. Bishop  Beck,  the  Lords  de  Valence  and  Soulis, 
■with  one  Menteith,  who  it  seems  was  the  man  that  be- 
trayed him  into  our  hands,  charged  him  with  high  trea- 
son against  the  life  of  King  Edward  and  the  peace  of 
his  majesty's  realms  of  England  and  Scotland.  Griev- 
ous were  the  accusations  brought  against  him,  and  bit- 
ter the  revilings  with  which  he  was  denounced  as  a 
traitor  too  mischievous  to  deserve  any  show  of  mercy. 
The  Earl  of  Gloucester,  who  had  several  times  at- 
tempted to  stem  the  headlong  fury  of  their  several  de- 
positions, at  last  rose  indignantly,  and  in  energetic  and 
respectful  te^rms  implored  Sir  William  Wallace,  by  the 
reverence  in  which  he  held  the  tribunal  of  fature  ages, 
to  answer  for  huiisef. 

On  this  adjuration^  brave  earl  1**  replied  he,  ^^Iivill.'* 
' — O  I  men  of  Scotland,  what  a  voice  was  that !  In  it 
was  all  honesty  and  nobleness ;  and  a  murmur  arose 
amongst  those  who  seemed  to  fear  its  power,  which 
Gloucester  was  obliged  to  check  by  exclaiming  aloud 
with  a  stern  countenance, — "  Silence  while  Sir  William 
Wallace  speaks,  or  he  who  disobeys  shall  be  dismissed 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  3.51 

the  court."  A  pause  succeedeclj  and  the  chieftain,  Vvith 
the  godlike  majesty  of  truth>  denied  the  possibility  of 
his  being  a  traitor  to  Edward,  to  'vvhom  he  never  owed 
any  allegiance ;  and  then,  with  the  same  fearlessness, 
he  avowed  the  facts  alleged  against  him  in  the  accu- 
sations of  the  havoc  he  had  made  of  the  English  on  the 
Scottish  pkiins  and  of  the  devastations  he  had  after- 
wards wrought  in  the  lands  of  England.  "  It  was  q. 
son,"  cried  he,  "  defending  the  orphans  of  his  father 
from  a  treacherous  friend  I  It  was  the  sword  of  restitu- 
tion, gathering  on  his  fields  the  harvests  he  had  stolen 
from  theirs  !"  He  spoke  more  and  nobly  ;  too  nobiy* 
for  them  who  heard  him.  They  rose  to  a  man  t«  si- 
lence what  they  could  not  confute ;  and  the  sentence 
of  death  was  pronounced  on  him  ;  the  cruel  death  of  s^. 
traitor  I^''^  The  Earl  of  Gloucester  turned  pale  on  his 
seat,  but  the  countenance  of  Wallace  was  unmoved. 
As  he  was  led  forth  I  followed,  and  saw  the  young  Le 
de  Spencer  and  several  other  reprobate  gallants  of  our 
court,  ready  to  receive  him.  With  shameful  mockeiy 
they  threw  laurels  on  his  head,  and  with  torrents  of 
derision,  told  him  that  it  was  meet  they  should  so  sa- 
lute the  champion  of  Scotland  !(s)  Wallace  glanced  on 
them  a  look  which  spoke  rather  pity  than  contempt, 
and  with  a  serene  countenance  he  followed  the  v,^arden 
towards  the  Tower.  The  hirelings  of  his  accusers 
loaded  him  with  invectives  as  he  passc:.  along  :  but  the 
people  w^io  beheld  his  noble  rnien,  and  who  had  heard 
of,  and  many  felt  his  generous  virtues,  deplored  and 
wept  his  hard  sentence.  To-morrow,  at  sun-rise,  he 
dies. 

Helen's  face  being  over-shadowed  by  the  feathers  of 
her  hat,  the  agony  of  her  mind  could  not  have  been 
read  in  her  countenance,  had  the  good  Southron  been 
sufficiently  uninterested  in  his  story  to  regard  the 
sympathy  of  others  ;  but  as  soon  as  the  dreadful  words 
*'  to-morrow,  at  sun-rise,  he  dies,"  fell  on  her  ear,  she 
started  from  her  seat ;  her  horror-struck  senses  appre- 
hended nothing  further,  and  turning  to  the  Norwegian, 
♦'  Captain,"  cried  she,  "  I  must  reach  the  Tower  this 
night :"  "  Impossible,"  was  the  reply  ;  "  the  tide  will 
not  take  us  up  till  to-morrow  a,t  noon,"    '^'  Then  the 


3^        -       THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

waves  must !"  cried  she,  and  franticly  rushinj^  ta^ 
wards  the  ship's  side,  she  would  have  thrown  herself 
into  the  water  had  not  the  pilot  caught  her  arm. 
"  Boy !"  said  he,  ^  are  you  mad  ?  your  action,  your 
looks — "  "  No  ;"  interrupted  she,  wringing  her  hands, 
•'  but  in  the  ToAver  I  must  be  this  nis^ht,  or — Oh  !  God 
of  mercy,  end  my  misery  1"  The  unutterable  anguish 
of  her  voice,  countenance,  and  gesture,  excited  a  sus- 
picion in  the  Englishman  that  this  youth  was  connec- 
ted with  the  Scottish  chief;  and  not  choosing  to  even 
hint  his  surmise  to  tlie  unfeeling  Norwegian,  in  a  dif- 
ferent tone  he  exhorted  Helen  to  composure,  and  of- 
fered her  his  own  boat  which  was  then  towed  at  the 
side  of  the  vessel,  to  take  her  to  the  Tower.  Helen 
grasped  the  pilot's  rough  hand,  and  in  a  paroxysm  of 
gratitude  pressed  it  to  her  lips ;  then,  forgetful  of 
her  engagements  with  the  insensible  man  who  stood 
unmoved  by  his  side,  sprung  into  the  boat.  The  Nor- 
wegian followed  her,  and  in  a  threatening  tone  de- 
manded his  hire.  She  now  recollected  it,  and  putting 
her  hand  into  her  vest,  gave  him  the  string  of  pearls 
which  had  been  her  necklace.  He  was  satisfied,  and 
ibe  boat  pushed  off. 

The  cross,  the  hallowed  pledge  of  her  chaste  com- 
TTiUnion  with  Wallace  in  the  chapel  of  Snawdoun,  and 
which  always  hung  suspended  on  her  bosom,  was  now 
in  her  hand  anu  pressed  close  to  her  heart.  The  row- 
ers plied  their  oars:  and  her  eyes,  with  a  gaze  as  if 
tiiey  would  pierce  the  horizon,  looked  intently  onward 
as  the  m.en  laboured  through  the  tide.  Even  to  see 
the  walls  which  contained  Wallace,  seemed  to  promise 
her  a  degree  of  comfort  she  dared  hardly  hope  in 
such  an  abyss  of  misery  she  was  fated  to  enjoy.  At 
last  the  awful  battlements  of  England'^  state  prison 
rose  before  her.  She  could  not  mistake  them.  "  That 
is  the  Tower,"  said  one  of  the  rowers.  A  shriek  es- 
caped her,  and  instantly  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands,  she  tried  to  shut  out  from  her  sight  those  very 
walls  she  had  so  long  sought  amongst  the  clouds. 
They  imprisoned  Wallace  ?  He  groaned  within  their 
confines  1  and  their  presence  puralyzed  her  heart. 

"  Shull  I  die  before  I  reach  thee,  Wallace  \"  was  the 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  353 

question  which  her  almost  flitting  soul  uttered  as  she 
trembling  yet  with  swift  step  ascended  the  stone  stairs 
which  led  from  the  water's  edge  to  the  entrance  of  the 
Tower.  She  flew  through  the  difi'erent  courts  to  the 
one  in  which  stood  the  prison  of  Wallace.  Here  she  dis- 
missed the  boatman  who  conducted  her,  with  a  ring  from 
her  finger  as  his  reward  ;  and  passing  a  body  of  soldiers 
which  kept  guard  before  a  large  porch  that  led  into  the 
vestibule  of  the  dungeons,  she  entered  and  found  her- 
self in  an  immense  paved  room.  A  single  sentinel 
stood  at  the  end  near  an  iron  door.  There  then  was 
Wallace  !  Forgetting  her  disguise  and  situation  in  the 
frantic  eagerness  of  her  pursuit,  she  hastily  advanced 
to  the  man  : — "  Let  me  pass  to  Sir  William  Wallace,'* 
cried  she,  "  and  treasures  shall  be  your  reward  I** 
"  Whose  treasures  ?  my  pretty  page  ;"  demanded  the 
soldier,  "  I  dare  not,  v/ere  it  at  the  suit  of  the  Coun- 
tess of  Gloucester  herself."  "  0 1"  cried*'Helen, 
"  For  the  sake  of  a  greater  thai)  any  countess  in  thie 
land,  take  this  jewelled  bracelet  and  let  me  pass  1" 

The  man,  misapprehending  the  words  of  this  adju* 
ration,  at  sight  of  the  diamonds,  supposing  the  page 
must  come  from  the  queen,  no  longer  demurred  ;  and 
putfmg  the  bracelet  into  his  bosom,  told  Helen  that, 
as  he  granted  this  permission  at  the  risk  of  his  life,  she 
must  conceal  herself  in  the  interior  chamber  of  the 
prisoner's  dungeons  should  any  from  the  warden  visit 
him  during  their  interview.  She  readily  promised 
this ;  and  he  informed  her,  that  when  through  this 
door  she  would  cross  two  other  apartments,  the  bolts 
to  the  entrances  of  which  she  must  undraw,  and 
then  at  the  extremity  of  a  long  passage  she  would  see 
a  door  fastened  by  a  latch  which  would  admit  her  tc 
Sir  William  Wallace.  With  these  words  the  soldier 
removed  the  massy  bars,  and  Helen  entered. 


CHAP.  XXXIII. 

XlELEN's  fleet  steps  carried  her  in  a  few  minutes 
through  tlve  intervening  dungeons  to  the  door  which 
gg2 


;^54  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

would  restore  to  her  eyes  the  being  with  whose  lite 
her  existence  seemed  blended.  The  bolts  had  yielded 
to  her  hands.  The  iron  latch  now  gave  way,  and  the 
ponderous  oak  grating  dismally  on  its  hinges,  she  look- 
ed  forward,  and  beheld  the  object  of  all  her  solicitude 
seated  at  a  stone  table,  apparently  writing.  He  rais- 
ed his  head  at  the  sound.  The  peace  of  heaven  was 
in  his  eyes,  and  a  smile  on  his  lips  as  if  he  had  expec- 
ted an  angel  visitant. 

The  first  glance  of  him  struck  to  the  heart  of  Hel- 
en; veneration,  anguish,  shame,  all  rushed  on  her  at 
once.  She  was  in  his  presence !  but  how  might  he 
turn  from  consolations  he  had  not  sought !  The  intem- 
perate passion  of  her  step-mother  now  glared  before 
her:  his  contempt  of  the  Countess's  unsolicited  ad- 
vances, appeared  ready  to  be  extended  to  her  rash 
daughter-in-law ;  and  with  an  irrepressible  cry,  which 
seemed  to  breathe  out  her  life,  Helen  would  have  fled  ; 
but  her  failing  limbs  bent  under  her,  and  she  fell 
senseless  into  the  dungeon.  Wallace  started  from  his 
seat.  He  thought  his  senses  must  deceive  him,  and 
yet  the  shriek  was  Lady  Helen's !  He  had  heard  the 
same  cry  which  had  brought  him  to  her  side  on  the 
Pentland  hills;  and  bending  to  the  inanimate  form  be- 
fore him,  he  took  off  the  plumed  hat,  and  parting  the 
heavy  locks  which  now  fell  over  her  face,  he  recognis- 
ed the  features  of  her  who  alone  had  ever  shared  his 
meditations  with  Marion.  He  sprinkled  water  on  her 
face  and  hasds  :  he  put  his  cheek  to  hers  ;  it  was  ashy 
cold;  he  felt  the  chill  at  his  heart.  "Helen!"  ex- 
claimed he  in  a  voice  of  alarm,  "  Helen  awake  1  Speak 
to  thy  friend  I" 

Still  she  remained  motionless.  "  Dead  !"  cried  he 
with  increased  emotion;  "Gone  so  soon !— Gone  to 
tell  Marion  that  her  Wallace  eomes.  Blessed  angel  1'* 
cried  he  clasping  her  to  his  breast  with  an  energy  of 
which  he  was  not  aware.  "  Take  me,  take  me  with 
thee  1"  The  pressure,  the  voice,  roused  the  dormant 
life  of  Helen.  With  a  torturing  sigh  she  unsealed  her 
eyes  from  the  death-like  load  that  oppressed  them,  and 
found  herself  in  the  arms  of  Wallace. 

All  her  wandering  senses,  >vhich  the  promulgation 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS,  355 

of  his  danger  had  dispersed  at  Hunting-tower  and 
maintained  in  a  bewildered  state  even  to  the  moment  o€ 
her  seeing  him  in  the  dungeon,  now  rallied,  and  in  re- 
recovered  sanity  smote  her  to  the  soul.  Though  still 
overwhelmed  with  grief  at  the  fate  which  threatened  to 
tear  him  from  her  and  life,  she  now  wondered  how  she 
could  ever  have  so  trampled  on  the  retreating  modesty 
of  her  nature,  as  to  have  brought  herself  thus  into  his 
presence  ;  and  in  a  voice  of  horror,  of  despair,  believ- 
ing that  she  had  for  ever  destroyed  herself  in  his  opin- 
ion, she  exclaimed,  "  Father  of  Heaven  !  how  came  I 
here  ? — I  am  lost,  and  innocently ; — but  who  can  read 
the  heart  !'* 

She  lay  in  hopeless  misery  on  his  breast  with  her 
eyes  again  closed,  almost  unconscious  of  the  pillow  on 
which  she  leaned.  "  Lady  Helen,"  returned  he,  hardly 
comprehending  her,  "  was  it  other  than  Wallace  you 
sought  in  these  dungeons  ?  I  dared  to  think  that  the 
parent  we  both  adore  had  sent  you  hither  to  be  his  har- 
binger of  my  heavenly  consolations  1"  Helen,  recalled 
to  self-possession  by  the  kindness  of  these  words,  turn- 
ed her  head  on  his  bosom,  and  in  a  burst  of  grateful 
tears  hardly  articulated,  "  And  will  you  not  abhor  me 
for  this  act  of  mudness  ?  But  I  was  not  myself.  And 
yet,  where  should  I  live  or  die,  but  at  the  feet  of  my 
benefactor  V  The  stedfast  soul  of  Wallace  was  sub- 
dued by  this  language,  and  the  manner  of  its  utterance. 
It  was  the  disinterested  dictates  of  a  pure  though  agi- 
tated spirit  which,  he  now  was  convinced,  did  most  ex- 
clusively love  him,  but  with  the  passion  of  an  angel ; 
and  the  tears  of  a  sympathy  which  spoke  their  kindred 
natures,  stole  from  his  eyes  as  he  bent  his  cheek  on 
her  head.  She  felt  them  ;  and  rejoicing  in  such  an 
assurance  that  she  yet  possessed  his  esteem,  a  blessed 
calm  diffused  itself  over  her  mind,  and  raising  herself, 
with  a  look  of  virtuous  confidence  she  exclaimed, 
"  Then  you  do  understand  me,  Wallace  ?  you  pardon 
me  this  apparent  forgetfulness  of  my  sex,  and  you  re- 
cognise a  true  sister  in  Helen  Mar?  I  may  adminis- 
ter to  that  noble  heart  till "  She  paused,   turned 

deadly  pale,  and  then  clasping  his  hand  in  both  hers  to 
her  lips,  in  bitter  agony  added  «  till  we  meet  in  he?- 
ven  V 


356  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

"  And  blissful,  dearest  saint,  will  be  our  union  there," 
rerplied  he,  "  where  soul  meets  soul  unencumbered  of 
these  earthly  fetters,  and  mingles  with  each  other,  even 
as  thy  tender  tear-drops  now  glide  into  mine  1  But 
there,  my  Helen,  we  shall  never  weep.  No  heart  will 
be  left  unsatisfied ;  no  spirit  will  mourn  in  jealousy,  for 
that  happy  region  is  the  abode  of  love  : — of  love  with- 
out the  defilements  or  the  disquietud-es  of  mortality ; 
for  there  it  is  an  everlasting,  p«re  er.jo)  ment.  It  is  a 
full  diffusive  tenderness  which,  penetrating  all  hearts, 
unites  the  whole  in  one  spirit  of  boundless  love  in  the 
bosom  of  our  God  !" 

"  Ah  I'*  cried  Helen,  throwing  herself  on  her  knees 
in  holy  enthusiasm  ;  "  Join  then  your  prayers  with 
mine,  most  revered  of  friends,  that  I  may  be  admitted 
into  such  blessedness !  Petition  our  God  to  forgive 
me,  and  do  you  forgive  me,  that  I  have  sometimes  en- 
vied the  love  you  bear  your  Marion  !  But  I  now  love 
her  so  entirely,  that  to  be  her  and  your  handmaid  in  pa- 
radise would  amply  satisfy  my  soul/'  "  O  !  Helen," 
cried  Wallace,  grasping  her  uplifted  hands  in  his  and 
clasping  them  to  his  heart,  "  thy  soul  and  Marion's  are 
indeed  one,  and  as  one  Hove  yel" 

This  anlooked  for  declaration  almost  overpowered 
Helen  in  its  flood  of  happiness;  and  with  a  smile  which 
seemed  to  picture  the  very  heavens  opening  before  her, 
she  turned  her  eyes  from  him  to  the  crucifix  which 
stood  on  the  table,  and  bowing  her  head  on  its  pedestal, 
was  lost  in  the  devotio^i  of  rapturous  gratitude. 

At  this  juncture,  when,  perhaps,  the  purest  bliss 
that  ever  descended  on  woman's  heart,  now  glowed  in 
that  of  Helen,  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  entered.  His 
were  not  visits  of  consolation ;  for  he  knew  that  his 
friend,  who  had  built  his  heroism  on  the  rock  of  Chris- 
tianity, did  not  require  the  comfortings  of  any  mortal 
hand.  At  sight  of  him,  Wallace,  pointing  to  the  kneel- 
ing Helen,  beckoned  him  into  the  inner  cell  where 
his  straw  pallet  lay ;  and  there,  in  a  low  voice,  declared 
who  she  was,  and  requested  the  earl  to  use  his  author- 
ity to  allow  her  to  remain  with  him  to  the  last.  "  After 
that,"  said  he,  "  I  rely  on  you,  generous  Gloucester, 
to  convey  safely  back  to  her  country,  a  being  who  seems 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  357 

to  have  nothing  of  earth  about  her  but  the  terrestrial 
body  which  enshrines  her  angelic*  soul." 

The  sound  of  a  voice  speaking  with  Wallace  aroused 
Helen  from  her  happy  trance.  Alarmed  that  it  might 
be  the  horrid  emissaries  of  the  tyrant,  come  premature- 
ly to  tear  him  from  her,  she  started  on  her  feet; 
"  Where  are  you,  Wallace :'"  cried  she  looking  dis- 
tractedly around  her;  "I  must  be  with  you  even  in 
death  I" 

Wallace,  hearing  her  fearful  cry,  hastened  into  the 
dungeon  and  relieved  her  immediate  terror  by  nam- 
ing the  Earl  of  Gloucester,  who  followed  him.  The 
conviction  that  Wallace  was  under  mortal  sentence, 
which  his  beatified  representations  of  the  bliss  he 
was  going  to  meet  had  almost  lost  in  its  glories,  now 
rushed  upon  her  with  redoubled  horrors.  This  world 
again  rose  before  her  in  the  person  of  Gloucester.  It 
reminded  her  that  she  and  Wallace  were  not  yet  passed 
into  the  hereafter  whose  anticipated  joys  had  wrapt 
her  in  such  sweet  elysium.  He  had  yet  the  bitter  cup 
of  death  to  drink  to  the  dregs  ;  and  all  of  human  weak- 
ness again  writhed  in  her  breast.  "  And  is  there  no 
hope  ?"  cried  she,  looking  earnestly  on  the  disturbed  face 
of  Gloucester;  "  Ah  conduct  mc  to  this  lawless  king  I 
If  tears,  if  a  breaking  heart  can  avail,  I  will  kneel  be- 
fore him  ;  I  will  die  before  him ;  only  let  Sir  William 
Wallace  live  !" 

"Dearest  sister  of  my  soul  1''  cried  Wallace,  throwing 
his  arms  around  her  agitated  figure,  "  thy  knees  shall 
never  bend  to  any  less  than  God,  for  me !  Did  He  will 
my  longer  pilgrimage  on  this  earth,  of  which  my  spirit 
is  already  weary,  it  would  not  be  in  the  power  of  any 
human  tyrant  to  hold  me  in  these  bonds.  I  am  content 
to  go,  my  Helen  ;  and  angels  whisper  me,  that  thy  bri- 
dal bed  will  be  William  Wallace's  grave  !'*  At  this  as- 
surance, she  looked  upon  him  with  a  blush  of  strange 
delight;  but  she  spoke  nof. 

Gloucester  for  a  moment  contemplated  this  chaste 
union  of  two  spotless  hearts,  with  an  admiration  almost 
amounting  to  devotion.  "  Gentle  hidy,"  said  he,  "  the 
message  that  I  came  to  impart  to  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace bears  with  it  a  shew  of  hope  ;  and  I  trust  that  your 
tender  spirit  will  be  as  persuasive,  as  consolatory.     A 


^58  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

private  embassy  has  just  arrived  in  haste  from  FrancCj 
to  negotiate  with  King  Edward  for  the  safe::y  of  our 
friend  as  a  prince  of  that  realm."  I  left  the  embassa- 
dors," continued  he,  turning  to  the  Scottish  chief,  "  in 
Vehement  debate  with  his  majesty  ;  and  he  has  at 
length  granted  a  suspension  of  the  horrible  injustice 
that  was  to  have  been  completed  to-mo4Tow,  until  some 
conditions  are  replied  to  by  you,  on  your  acceptance  of 
which,  he  declares,  shall  depend  his  compliance  with 
King  Philip's  demands." 

"  And  you  will  accept  them  ?"  cried  Helen,  in  a  tu- 
mult of  wild  hope.  The  communication  of  Gloucester 
had  made  no  change  in  the  equable  pulse  of  V/allace ; 
and  he  replied,  with  a  look  of  tender  pity  upon  her  ani- 
mated countenance,  "  The  conditions  of  Edward  are 
too  likely  to  be  snares  for  that  honour  which  1  will  bear 
Vi^th  me  uncontaminated  to  the  grave.  Therefore, 
dearest  consoler  of  my  last  hours,  do  not  give  way  to 
hopes  which  a  greater  king  than  Edward  may  com- 
mand me  to  disappoint."  Helen  bowed  her  head  in  si- 
lence. The  colour  again  faded  from  her  cheek,  and 
despair  once  more  tugged  at  her  heart-strings. 

Gloucester  resumed  ;  and  after  narrating  some  par- 
ticulars concerning  the  conference  between  the  king 
and  the  embassadors,  (deeming  it  probable,  that  should 
Wallace  even  finally  refuse  the  terms  which  would  be 
proposed  to  him,  that  the  time  of  the  negotiation  w^ould 
at  least  very  much  prolong  his  sojourn  in  this  world ;) 
he  suggested  the  impracticability  of  secretly  retaining 
Lady  Helen  for  so  long  a  period  in  the  dungeon  with 
him.  "  I  dare  not,"  continued  he,  "  be  privy  to  such 
a  circumstance  and  c-.iceal  it  from  the  king.  I  know 
not  what  messengers  he  may  send  to  impart  his  condi- 
tions to  you  ;  and  should  she  be  discovered,  Edward, 
doubly  incensed,  would  tear  her  from  you  ;  and  as  an 
accessary  so  involve  me  in  his  displeasure,  that  I  must 
be  disabled  from  serving  either  of  you  farther.  Were 
I  so  far  to  honour  his  feelings  as  a  man,  as  to  men- 
tion it  to  him,  I  do  not  believe  that  he  would  oppose  her 
wishes ;  but  how  to  reveal  such  a  circumstance  with 
any  regard  to  her  fair  fame,  I  know  not ;  for  all  are 
not  sufficiently  virtuous  tp  believe  h«r  spotless  inno- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  359 

cence.*'  Helen,  who  summoned  all  her  strength  at  the 
intimation  which  threatened  to  separate  her  from  Wal- 
lace, hastily  interrupted  GlouccsLer,  and  with  firmness 
said,  "  When  I  entered  these  walls,  the  world  and  I 
parted  forever.  The  good  or  the  evil  opinion  of  the 
impure  in  heart  can  never  affect  me  : — they  shall  never 
see  me  more.  The  innocent  will  judge  me  by  them- 
selves, and  by  the  end  of  my  race.  I  came  here  to  mi- 
nister with  a  sister's  duty  to  my  owji  and  my  father*s 
preserver ;  and  while  he  abides  here  I  will  never  con- 
sent to  leave  his  feet.  When  he  goes  hence,  if  it  be  to 
bless  mankind  again,  I  shall  find  the  longest  life  too 
short  to  pour  forth  all  my  gratitude  ;  and  for  that  pur- 
pose I  will  dedicate  myself  in  some  nunnery  of  my  na- 
tive land.  But  should  he  be  taken  from  a  world  that  is 
unworthy  of  him,  soon,  very  soon,  shall  I  cease  to  feel 
its  aspersions,  in  the  grave.** 

"  No  aspersions  which  I  can  avert,  dearest  Helen,** 
cried  Wallace,  "  shall  ever  tarnish  the  fame  of  one 
whose  purity  can  only  be  transcended  by  her  who  is 
now  made  perfect  in  heaven  !  Consent,  noblest  of 
women,  to  wear  for  the  few  days  I  may  yet  linger  here, 
a  name  which  thy  sister  angel  has  sanctified  to  me. 
Give  me  a  legal  right  to  call  you  mine,  and  Edward 
himself  will  not  then  dare  to  divide  what  God  has 
joined  together  1'* 

Helen  attempted  to  answer,  but  the  words  died  on 
the  seraphic  smile  which  beamed  upon  her  lips,  and 
she  dropped  her  head  upon  his  breast. 

Gloucester,  who  saw  no  other  means  of  insuring  to 
his  friend  her  society,  was  rejoiced  at  this  resolution 
of  Wallace  ;  he  had  himself  longed  to  propose  it,  but 
knew  not  how  to  do  so  with  sufficient  delicacy ;  and 
reading  the  consent  of  Helen  in  the  tender  emotioTi 
which  denied  her  speech,  without  further  delay,  as  the 
hour  was  advancing  towards  midnight,  he  quitted  the 
apartment  to  bring  the  confessor  of  the  warden  to  join 
their  hands  before  he  should  leave  them  for  the  night. 

On  his  re-entrance,  he  found  Helen  sitting  dissolved 
in  tears,  with  her  hand  clasped  in  his  friend's.  The 
sacred  rite  was  soon  performed,  which  endowed  her 
with  all  the  claims  upon  Wallace  which  her  devoted 


S60  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

heart  had  so  longed  sighed  after  with  resigned  hope- 
fulness : — to  be  his  help-mate  on  earth,  his  partner  in 
the  tomb,  his  dear  companion  in  heaven  !  With  the 
last  benediction  she  threw  herself  on  her  knees  before 
him,  and  put  his  hand  to  her  lips  in  eloquent  silence. 
Gloucester  with  a  look  of  kind  farewell  vathdrew  with 
the  priest. 

"  Thou  noble  daughter  of  the  noblest  Scot!"  said 
Wallace,  raising  her  from  the  ground,  "  this  bosom  is 
thy  place,  and  not  my  feet.  Long  it  will  not  be  giren 
me  to  hold  thee  here  :  but  even  in  the  hours  of  our 
separation,  my  spirit  will  hover  near  thee,  to  bear 
thine  to  our  everlasting  home." 

The  heart  of  Helen  alternately  beat  violently,  and 
paused  as  if  the  vital  currents  were  suddenly  stopped. 
Hope  and  fear  agitated  her  by  turns ;  but  clinging  to 
the  flattering  prospect  which  the  arrival  of  the  embas- 
sadors had  excited  ;  and  almost  believing,  that  she 
could  not  be  raised  to  such  a  pinnacle  of  felicity  as  to  be 
made  the  wife  of  Wallace,  only  to  be  hurled  to  the 
abyss  of  misery  by  his  instant  and  violent  death ;  she 
timidly  breathed  a  hope  that  by  the  present  interfe- 
rence of  King  Philip,  Edward  might  not  be  found  in- 
exorable. 

"  Disturb  not  the  holy  composure  of  your  soul  by 
such  an  expectation,"  returned  he,  "  I  know  my  adver- 
sary too  well  to  anticipate  his  relinquishing  the  object 
of  his  vengeance,  but  at  a  price  more  infamous  tha'.^ 
the  most  ignoble  death.  Therefore,  best  beloved  of  all 
on  earth  i  look  for  no  deliverance  for  thy  Wallace  but 
what  passes  through  the  grave;  and  to  me,  dearest  He- 
len, its  gates  are  on  golden  hinges  turning,  for  all  is 
light  and  bliss  which  shines  on  me  from  within  their 
courts  1" 

Helen's  thoughts,. in  the  idea  of  his  being  torn  from 
her,  could  not  wrest  themselves  from  the  direful 
images  of  his  execution  ;  she  shuddered,  and  in  falter- 
ing accents  replied,  "  Ah !  could  we  glide  from  sleep 
into  so  blessed  a  death,  I  would  hail  it  even  foiKaee  ! 
But  the  threatened  horrors,  should  they  fall  on  thy  sa- 
cred head,  will,  in  that  h.our,  I  trust,  also  divorce  my 
soul  from  this  grievous  world  1" 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  361 

"  Not  so,  my  Helen,"  returned  he ;  "  keep  not  thy 
dear  eyes  for  ever  fixed  on  the  gloomy  appendages  of 
death.  The  scaffold  and  the  grave  have  nought  to  do 
with  the  immortal  soul :  it  cannot  be  wounded  by  the 
one,  nor  confined  by  the  other.  And  is  not  the  soul 
thy  full  and  perfect  Wallace  ?  It  is  that  which  now 
speaks  to  thee,  which  will  cherish  thy  beloved  idea  for 
ever.  Lament  not  then  how  soon  this  body,  its  mere 
apparel,  is  laid  down  in  the  dust.  But  rejoice  still  in 
my  existence  which,  through  Him  who  led  captivity 
captive^  will  never  know  a  pause.  Comfort  then  thy 
heart,  my  soul's  dear  sister,  and  sojourn  a  little  while 
on  this  earth  to  bear  witness  for  thy  Wallace  to  the 
friends  he  loves  1" 

Helen,  who  felt  the  import  of  his  words  in  Iier  heart? 
gently  bowed  her  head,  and  he  proceeded  : 

"  As  the  ^  first  who  stemmed  with  me  the  torrent 
which,  with  God's  help,  we  so  often  laid  into  a  calm,  I 
mention  to  you  my  faithful  Lanarkers.  Many  of  them 
bled  and  died  in  the  contest;  and  to  their  orphans,  with 
the  children  of  those  who  yet  survive,  I  coi>sign  all  the 
world's  wealth  that  yet  belongs  to  William  Wallace: 
Ellerslie  and  its  estates  are  theirs.  W  To  Bruce,  my 
sovereign  and  my  friend,  the  loved  companion  of  the 
hour  in  which  I  freed  you  my  Helen  from  the  arms  of 
violence  !  To  him  I  bequeath  this  heart,  knit  to  him  by 
bonds  more  dear  than  even  loyalty.  Bear  it  to  him ; 
and  when  he  is  summoned  to  his  heavenly  throne,  then 
let  his  heart  and  mine  fill  up  one  urn.  To  Lord  Ruth- 
ven,  to  Bothwell,  to  Scrymgeour,  and  Kirkpatrick,  I 
give  my  prayers  and  blessings." — 

Here  Wallace  paused.  Helen,  who  had  listened  to 
him  with  a  holy  attention  which  hardly  allowed  a  sigh 
to  breathe  from  her  steadfast  heart,  spoke;  but  the 
voice  was  scarcely  audible : — "  And  what  for  Edwin, 
who  loves  you  dearer  than  life  ?  He  cannot  be  forgotten  1" 
Wallace  started  at  this:  then  she  was  ignorant  of  the 
death  of  that  too  faithful  friend  I  In  a  hurrying  accent  he 
replied,  "  Never  forgotten  !  Oh,  Helen !  I  asked  for  him 
life,  and  heaven  gave  him  long  life,  even  for  ever  and 
ever !"  Helen's  eyes  met  his  with  a  look  of  awful  inqui- 
ry: "  That  would  mean,  h©  is  gone  before  you  ?'*     TKe 

VOL.H.  HH 


362  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

countenance  of  Wallace  answered  her.  "  Happy  Ed- 
win I"  cried  she,  and  the  tears  rained  over  her  cheeks 
as  she  bent  her  head  on  her  arm.  Wallace  continued  ; 
"  Me  laid  down  his  life  to  preserve  mine  in  the  hovel  of 
Lumloch.  The  false  Mcnteith  could  get  no  Scot  to 
lay  hands  on  their  true'  defender;  and  even  the  foreign 
ruffians  he  brought  to  the  task,  might  have  spared  the 
noble  boy,  but  an  arrow  from  the  traitor  himself  pierced 
his  heart.  Cont«ntion  was  then  no  more,  and  I  resign- 
ed myself  to  follow  him." 

"  What  a  desert  has  the  world  become  1"  exclaimed 
Helen ;  then  turning  on  Wallace  with  a  saintlike  smile, 
she  added,  "  I  would  hardly  now  withhold  you.  You 
will  bear  him  Helen's  love,  and  tell  him  how  soon  I 
will  be  with  ye.  Our  Father  may  not  allow  my  heart 
to  break ;  but  in  his  mercy  he  may  take  my  soul  in  the 
prayers  which  I  shall  hourly  breathe  to  him!"  •*'  Thou 
hast  been  lent  me  as  ray  sweet  consolation  here,  my 
Helen ;"  replied  he,  "  and  the  Almighty  dispenser  of 
that  comfort  will  not  long  banish  you  from  the  object 
of  your  innocent  wishes." 

While  they  thus  poured  into  each  others  bosoms  the 
ineffable  balm  of  friendship's  purest  tenderness,  the  eyes 
of  Wallace  insensibly  closed.  "  Your  gentle  influence," 
gently  murmured  he,  "brings  that  sleep  to  these  eye- 
lids which  has  not  visited  them  since  I  first  entered 
these  walls.  Like  my  Marion,  Helen,  thy  presence 
brings  healing  on  its  wings."  "  Sleep,  then,"  replied 
she,  "  and  her  angel  spirit  will  keep  watch  with  mine,' 


CHAP.  XXXIV. 

Though  all  the  furies  of  the  elements  seemed  let 
ioose  to  rage  around  the  walls  of  the  dungeon,  still  Wal- 
lace  slept  in  the  loud  uproar.  Calm  was  within ;  and 
the  warfare  of  the  world  could  not  disturb  the  balmy 
rest  into  which  the  angel  of  peace  had  steeped  his 
senses.  From  this  profound  repose  he  was  awoke,  just 
as  Helen  had  sunk  into  a  light  slumber,  by  the  entrance 
of  Gloucester.     But  the  first  words  of  the  earl  aroused 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  Ssa 

her,  and  rising,  she  followed  her  beloved  Wallace  to 
his  side. 

He  came  by  the  king's  order  thus  early,  to  shew  his 
majesty's  readiness  to  comply  with  the  wishes  of  his 
royal  brother  of  France.  Gloucester  put  a  scroll  into 
the  hand  of  Wallace  : — "  Sign  that,"  said  he,  "  and  you 
are  free.  I  know  not  its  contents ;  but  the  king  com- 
niissioned  me,  as  a  mark  of  his  grace,  to  be  the  messen- 
ger of  your  i-elease." 

Wallace  read  the  conditions,  and  the  colour  deepened 
on  his  cheek  as  his  eye  met  each  article.  He  was  to 
reveal  the  asylum  of  Bruce  ;  to  foreswear  Scotland  for 
•ever;  and  to  take  an  oath  of  allegiance  to  Edward,  the 
seal  of  which  should  be  the  English  Earldom  of  Cleave- 
land  !  Wallace  closed  the  parchment.  "  King  Edward 
knows  well  what  will  be  my  reply ;  I  need  not  speak 
it.*'     "  You  will  accept  his  terms  ?"  asked  the  earl. 

"  Not  to  insure  me  a  life  of  ages  with  all  earthly  bliss 
my  portion  !  I  have  spoken  to  these  offers  before.  Read 
them,  my  noble  friend,  and  then  give  him  as  mine  the 
answer  that  would  be  yours/'  Gloucester  obeyed  ;  and 
while  his  eyes  were  bent  on  the  parchment,  those*of  He- 
len were  fixed  on  her  almost  worshipped  husband :  she 
looked  through  his  beaming  countenance  into  his  very 
soul,  and  there  saw  thesublime  purpose  that  consigned 
his  unbending  head  to  the  scaffold.  When  Gloucester 
had  finished,  covered  with  the  burning  blush  of  shame 
he  crushed  the  disgraceful  scroll  in  his  hand,  and  ex- 
claimed with  honourable  vehemence  against  the  deep 
duplicity  and  the  deeper  cruelty  of  hfts  father-in-law. 
by  such  base  subterfuges  to  mock  the  embassy  of 
France  and  its  noble  object. 

"  This  is  the  morning  in  which  I  was  to  have  met 
my  fate  !"  replied  Wallace.  "  Tell  this  tyrant  of  the 
earth,  that  I  am  even  now  ready  to  receive  the  last 
stroke  of  his  injustice.  In  the  peaceful  grave,  my 
Helen,"  added  he,  turning  to  her,  who  sat  pale  and 
aghast,  "  I  shall  be  beyond  his  power!"  Gloucester 
walked  the  room,  in  great  disturbance  of  mind,  while 
Wallace  continued  in  a  lower  tone  his  attempts  to  recal 
some  perception  of  his  consolations  to  the  abstracted 
and  soul-struck  Helen.     The  earl  stopped  suddenly  be- 


364  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS-. 

fore  them.  "  That  the  king  did  not  expect  your  acquies- 
cence without  some  hesitation,  I  cannot  doubt ;  for  he 
told  me,  when  I  informed  him  that  the  Lady  Helen 
Mar,  now  your  wife,  was  the  sharer  of  your  prison,  that 
should  you  still  oppose  yourself  to  what  he  called  your 
own  interest,  I  must  briiig  her  to  him,  as  the  last  means 
of  persuading  you  to  receive  his  mercy." 

*' Never  1"  replied  Wallace,  "I  reject  what  he  calls 
mercy.  He  has  no  rights  of  judgment  over  m*  ;  and 
his  pretended  mercy  is  an  .assumption  which,  as  a  true 
born  Scot,  I  despise.  He  may  rifle  me  of  my  life,  but 
he  shall  never  beguile  me  into  any  acknowledgment  of 
an  authority  that  is  false.  No  wife,  nor  ought  of  mine, 
with  my  consent,  shall  ever  stand  before  him  as  a  sup- 
pliant for  William  Wallace.  I  will  die  as  I  have  lived, 
the  equal  of  Edward  in  all  things  but  a  crown  :  and  his 
superior  in  being  true  to  the  gloiy  of  prince  or  pe?;, 
sant— unblemished  honour  V* 

Finding  the  Scottish  chief  not  to  be  shaken  in  this 
determination,  Gloucester,  humbled  to  the  soul  by  the 
base  tyranny  of  his  royal  father-in-law,  soon  after  with- 
drew to  acquaint  that  haughty  monarch  with  the  ill- 
auccess  of  his  embassy.  But  ere  Koon  had  turned,  he 
re-appeared,  with  a  countenance  declarative  of  some 
distressing  errand.  He  found  Helen  awakened  to  the 
full  perception  of  ail  her  pending  evils — that  she  was  on 
the  eve  of  losing  for  ever,  the  object  dearest  to  her  in 
this  world;  and  though  she  wept  not,  though  she  lis- 
tened to  the  lord  of  all  her  wishes  with  smiles  of  holy 
approval,  her  heart  bled  within,  and  with  a  welcome, 
which  enforced  his  consolatory  arguments,  she  hailed 
its  mortal  pains. 

"  I  come,"  said  Gloucester,  "  not  to  urge  you  to  send 
Lady  Helen  as  a  suitor  to  King  Edward ;  but  to  spare 
her  the  misery  of  being  separated  from  you  while  life 
is  yours.*'  He  then  proceeded  to  relate,  that  the 
French  embassadors  knew  not  the  conditions  which 
-were  offered  to  the  object  of  their  mission  ;  but  being 
informed  that  he  had  refused  them,  they  still  continue 
to  press  their  soverign's  demands  with  a  power  whicii 
Edward  seemed  cautious  to  provoke;  and,  therefore, 
as  a  last  proof  of  his  desire  to  acquiesce  in  the  wishes 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS,  565. 

of  Philip,  he  told  the  French  lords  that  he  would  send 
his  final  propositions  to  Sir  William  Wallace  by  that 
chieftain's  wife,  who  he  found  was  then  his  cojnpanion 
in  the  Tower.  "  On  my  intimating,"  continued  the 
earl,  "  that  I  feared  she  would  be  unable  to  appear  be^ 
fore  hhn,  his  answer  was  :— Let  her  see  to  that ;  such 
refusal  shall  be  answered  by  her  immediate  separation 
from  her  husband.'* 

"Let  me,  in  this  demand," cried  she,  turning  with 
collected  firmness  to  Wallace.  "  satisfy  che  will  of  Ed- 
ward, it  is  only  to  purchase  my  continuance  with  you ; 
trust  me,  noblest  of  men  !  I  should  be  unworthy  of  the 
name  you  have  given  me,  could  I  sully  it  in  my  person, 
by  one  debasing  word  or  action  to  the  author  of  all  our 
ills  1"  "  Ah,  my  Helen  I"  replied  he,  "  what  is  it  you 
ask  ?  Am  I  to  live  to  see  a  repetition  of  the  horrors  of 
EUerslie  ?"  "  No,  on  my  life  !"  answered  Glouces- 
ter  ;  "  my  soul  in  this  instance,  I  would  pledge  for 
King  Edward's  manhood.  His  ambition  might  lead  him 
to  trample  on  all  men  ;  but  still  for  woman,  he  feels  as 
becomes  a  man  and  a  knight." 

Helen  renewed  her  supplications  :  and  Wallace,  on 
the  strength  of  her  promise,  (and  aware,  that  should 
he  withhold  her  attendance,  that  his  implacable  adver- 
sary, however  he  might  spare  her  personal  injury, 
would  not  forbear  wounduig  her  to  the  soul  by  tear- 
ing her  from  him,)  in  pity  to  her,  gave  an  unwilling 
consent  to  what  might  seem  a  submission  on  his  part 
to  an  authority  he  had  shed  his  blood  to  oppose.  "  But 
not  in  these  garments"  said  he,  "  must  my  Helen  appear 
"  before  the  eyes  of  our  enemy.  She  must  be  habited 
as  becomes  her  sex  and  her  own  delicacy." 

Anticipating  this  propriety,  Gloucester  had  impart- 
ed the  circumstance  to  his  countess,  and  she  had  sent 
a  box  of  female  apparel,  which  the  earl  now  brought 
in  from  the  passage.  Helen  retired  to  the  inner  cell, 
and  hastily  arraying  herself  in  the  first  suit  that  pre- 
sented itself,  re-appeared  in  a  blue  mantle  wrapped 
over  her  white  robes,  and  her  beautiful  hair  covered 
with  a  long  veil.  As  Gloucester  took  her  hand  to  lead 
her  forth,  Wallace  clasped  the  other  hand  in  his,  and 
said,  "  Remember  my  Helen,  that  on  no  terms  but  un- 
bh2 


366  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS, 

trammelled  freedom  of  soul  will  your  Wallace  accept 
of  life.  This,  I  know,  will  not  be  granted  by  the  man 
towhorqyou  go;  therefore,  speak  and  act  in  his  pres- 
ence, as  if  I  were  already  beyond  the  skies." 

Had  this  faithful  friend,  now  his  almost  adoring  wife^ 
left  his  side  with  more  sanguine  hopes,  how  grievous- 
ly would  they  have  been  blasted  ! 

Edward  received  her  alone.  The  tender  loveliness 
of  her  perfect  form,  and  the  celestial  dignity  which 
seemed  to  breathe  in  all  her  words  and  movements,  at 
first  struck  him  with  that  admiration  and  awe  which  he 
had  been  accustomed  to  feel  towards  the  eminently 
beautiful  of  her  sex ;  but  the  domineering  passion  of 
his  soul  soon  put  to  flight  these  gentle  respects  ;  and 
finding  that  the  noble  spirit  of  Helen  rose  above  the 
proud  demands  he  urged  her  to  enforce  on  her  hus- 
band, he  gave  way  to  the  violence  of  his  resentment, 
and  with  many  invectives  against  the  rebellious  obsti- 
nacy of  Wallace,  painted  to  her  in  all  its  horrible  de- 
tails the  punishment  he  was  doomed  to  suffer.  Then, 
when  he  saw  her  transfixed  in  mute  despair,  and  lean- 
ing against  a  pillar,  as  if  ready  to  sink  under  the  blow 
he  had  given  her,  he  expatiated  on  the  years  of  happi- 
ness and  splendour  which  should  await  her  husband, 
would  he  accept  his  conditions.  "  Counsel  him,  laJ.y;*' 
repeated  he, "  to  reveal  to  me  the  hiding-place  of  Ro- 
bert Br^^ce  :  and  that  he  does  so,  shall  e^er  be  a  secret 
between  us.  Let  him  bind  bis  faith  to  me  by  the  oath 
of  allegiance,  and  I  will  make  him  as  the  right  hand 
of  my  throne.  And  for  you,  romantic  woman,  if  you 
will  awake  to  your  own  true  interest  and  bring  him  to 
the  same  conviction,  all  the  honours  which  I  would 
have  bestowed  on  you  as  the  Countess  of  Aymer  de  Va- 
lence, shall  be  redoubled  as  the  wife  of  my  Earl  of 
Cleveland !" 

"  Mortal  distinctions,  King  of  England  !"  replied  she, 
summoning  all  the  strength  of  her  soul  to  give  utter* 
ance  to  her  answer,  "  cannot  bribe  the  wife  of  Sir  Wil- 
liam Wallace  to  betray  his  virtues.  His  life  is  dear  to 
me,  but  his  immaculate  faith  to  his  God  and  his  law- 
ful prince,  are  dearer.  I  can  see  him  die,  and  smile  ;— 
for  I  shall  join  him  triumphant  in  heaven  ;«— but  to  be- 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  367 

hold  him  dishonour  himself!  to  counsel  him  so  to  do, 
is  beyond  my  power  ;  I  should  expire  with  grief  in  the 
shameful  moment." 

"  And  this  is  your  proud  reply,  madam  ?'* 

"  I  can  give  no  other." 

"  Then  be  his  blood  upon  your  head,  for  you  have 
pronounced  his  doom !" 

The  words  struck  like  the  bolt  of  death  upon  her 
heart.     She  reeled,  and  fell  senseless  on  the  floor. 

She  awoke  to  recollection,  lying  on  a  couch,  with  a 
lady  weeping  over  her.  It  was  the  Countess  of  Glou- 
cester. When  the  king  perceived  the  state  into  which 
his  headlong  fury  had  cast  the  innocent  victim  of  his 
wrath  against  Wallace,  and  as  he  wished  to  keep  these 
negotiations  respecting  that  chief  a  secret  from  the 
nation,  he  called  his  daughter,  the  compassionate  wife 
of  Gloucester  ;  and  while  he  gave  his  final  orders  to 
the  earl,  left  her  to  recover  the  unhappy  Lady  Helen. 

Eager  to  be  restored  to  him  from  whom  she  knew 
she  must  now  so  soon  be  most  cruelly  separated,  He- 
len, without  regarding  who  might  be  the  benevolent  lady 
that  attended  her,  started  from  the  couch,  and  implored 
to  be  immediately  taken  back  to  the  Tower.  The  Coun- 
tess quieted  her  terrors  that  Edward  meant  to  detain 
her ;  and  telling  her  who  she  was,  soon  after  withdrew 
to  see  if  the  earl  was  released  by  the  king  and  ready  to 
re-conduct  his  charge  to  her  husband. 

A  long  hour  was  now  passed  in  solitude,  during  which 
Helen  suffered  the  dreadful  agonies  of  a  mind  torn  be- 
tween suspense  of  again  being  with  Wallace,  and  the 
horrible  certainty  of  his  impending  fate.  At  last,  even 
in  the  moment  when  her  impatience  had  precipitated 
her  into  the  resolution  of  finding  her  way  from  the  pa- 
lace alone,  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  entered  the  room: — . 
his  countess  was  too  much  overcome  by  the  scene  she 
had  witnessed,  again  to  look  on  the  youthful  wife  of  the 
hero  who  was  so  soon  to  leave  her  the  most  bereaved 
of  widows  : — and  Helen,  rushing  towards  the  earl,  hard- 
ly articulated  in  a  cry  of  phrenzied  joy,  "  Take  me 
hence  1" — and  giving  him  her  hand,  spoke  not  till  she 
was  again  clasped  in  the  arms  of  Wallace. 


368  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

"  Here  will  I  live  !  Here  will  I  die  I"  cried  she. 
in  a  passion  of  tears ;  "  they  may  sever  my  soul  from 
my  body,  but  never  again  part  me  from  this  dear  bo- 
€om  I'*  "  Never,  never,  my  Helen  1"  said  he,  reading 
her  conference  v/ith  the  king,  in  the  wild  terror  of  its 
effects.  Her  senses  seemed  fearfully  disordered,  as 
she  clung  to  him,  and  muttered  sentences  of  such  in- 
coherency  that  shook  him  to  the  soul,  he  cast  a  look  of 
such  expressive  inquiry  upon  Gloucester,  that  the  earl 
could  only  answer  by  hastily  putting  his  hand  on  his 
face  to  hide  his  own  emotion.  At  last  the  tears  she 
shed  appeared  to  relieve  the  excess  of  her  agonies,  and 
she  gradually  sunk  into  an  awful  calm.  Then  rising 
from  her  husband's  arms  she  seated  herself  on  the  stone 
bench  and  said  in  a  firm  voice,  "  Earl,  lean  now  bear 
to  hear  you  repeat  the  last  decision  of  the  King  of  Eng- 
land.'* 

"  Dearest  lady,"  returned  he,  "  to  convince  your 
suffering  spirit  that  no  earthly  means  have  been  left 
unessayed  to  change  the  unjust  purpose  of  the  king, 
know  that  I  left  in  his  presence  the  queen  and  my  wife 
both  weeping  tears  of  disappointment.  On  the  mo- 
ment when  1  found  that  arguments  could  no  longcj 
avail,  I  implored  him  by  every  consideration  of  God 
and  man  to  redeem  his  honour,  sacrificed  by  the  unjust 
decree  pronounced  on  Sir  William  Wallace .  My  en- 
'reaties  were  repulsed  with  anger,  for  the  sudden  en- 
trance of  Lord  Athol  with  fresh  fuel  to  his  flame,  so 
confirmed  his  direful  resolution,  that,  desperate  for  my 
friend,  I  threw  myself  on  my  knees.  The  queen,  and 
then  my  wife,  both  prostrate  at  his  feet,  enforced  my 
suit,  but  all  in  vain  :  his  heart  seemed  hardened  by 
our  earnestness  ;  and  his  answer,  while  it  put  us  to  si- 
lence, granted  Wallace  a  triumph  even  in  his  chains. 
■'  Cease  1"  cried  he,  "  Wallace  and  I  have  now  come  to 
ihat  issue  that  one  must  fall.  I  shall  vise  my  advan- 
tage, though  I  should  walk  over  the  necks  of  half  my 
kindred  to  accomplish  his  fate.  I  can  find  no  security 
on  my  throne,  no  peace  in  my  bed,  until  I  know  that  he, 
my  direst  enemy,  is  no  more  !" 

"  Sorry  am  I,  generous  Gloucester,"  interrupted 
Wallace,  "  that  for  my  life  you  have  stooped  your  knep 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  369 

to  one  so  unworthy  of  your  nobleness.  Let,  then,  his 
tyranny  take  its  course.  But  its  shaft  shall  not  reach 
the  soul  his  unkingly  spirit  hopes  to  wound.  lie  may 
dishonour  my  body,  may  mangle  these  limbs,  but  Wil- 
iiam  Wallace  will  then  be  far  beyond  his  reach  V 
Gloucester  gazed  on  him,  doubting  the  inspired  ex- 
pression of  his  countenance.  ''  Surely,"  said  he^  "  my 
unconquered  friend  will  not  now  be  forced  to  self-vio- 
lence : " — "  No,"  returned  Wallace,  "  suspect  me  not 
of  such  base  vassalage  to  this  poor  tabernacle  of  clay. 
Did  I  believe  it  my  Father's  will  that  I  should  die  at 
every  pore,  I  would  :.ubmit.  For  so  his  immaculate 
Son  laid  down  his  life  for  a  rebellious  world  ! — And  is 
d  servant  greater  than  his  master,  that  I  should  be  ex- 
empt from  this  trial  ? — But  I  await  his  summons,  and 
he  whispers  to  my  soul  that  the  rope  of  Edward  shall 
never  make  this  free-born  neck  feel  its  degrading 
touch.'* 

Helen,  with  re-awakened  horror,  listened  to  the 
words  of  Wallace,  which  referred  to  the  last  outrage 
to  be  committed  on  his  sacred  remains.  She  recalled 
the  corresponding  threats  of  the  king,  and  again  losing 
self-possession,  starting  wildly  up,  she  exclaimed, 
"  And  is  there  no  humanity  in  his  ruthless  heart ! — Am 

I  to  be  deprived  of O  1"  cried  she,  tearing  her  eyes 

from  the  beloved  form  on  which  they  too  fondly  doted, 
"  let  the  sacrifice  of  my  life  be  offered  to  this  cruel 

man,  to  save  from   indignity "  She  could  add  no 

more,  but  dropt  half  fainting  on  the  arm  of  Wallace. 

Gloucester  understood  the  object  of  such  anguished 
solicitude,  and  while  Wallace  again  seated  her,  he  re- 
vived her  by  tlie  assurance  that  the  clause  she  so  ft  .'.r- 
fully  deprecated,  had  been  repealed  by  Edward.  But 
the  good  earl  blushed  as  he  spoke,  for  in  this  instance 
he  said  what  was  not  the  truth.  F'ar  different  had  been 
the  issue  of  all  his  attempts  at  mitigation.  The  arrival 
of  Athol  from  Scotland  v/ith  advices  from  the  Countess 
of  Strathearn,  that  Lady  Helen  Mar  hud  lied  southward 
to  raise  an  insurrection  in  favour  of  Wallace,  ami  that 
Lord  Bothwell  had  gone  to  France  to  move  Philip  to 
embrace  the  same  cause,  precipitated  Edward  to  com- 
mand the  instant  and  full  execution  of  that  sentence  he 


370  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

was  previously  determined  not  to  abrogate.  It  wa^ 
merely  to  satisfy  the  French  embassadors  of  his  desire 
to  accord  with  their  master's  wish,  that  he  devised  the 
mockery  of  sending  the  articles  of  pardon  to  Wallace, 
which  he  well  knew  would  be  rejected.  And  his  inter- 
view with  Lady  Helen,  though  so  intemperately  con- 
ducted, was  dictated  by  the  same  subtle  policy. 

When  on  the  representations  of  Lord  Athol,  Glouces- 
ter found  the  impossibility  of  obtaining  any  further  re- 
spite of  the  murderous  decree,  he  attempted  to  prevail 
for  the  remission  of  the  last  clause,  which  ordered,  that 
his  friend's  noble  body  should  h?.  dismembered  and  his 
limbs  sent  as  terrors  to  rebellion,  to  the  four  capital 
fortresses  of  Scotland.  Edward  spurned  at  this  peti- 
tion with  even  more  acrimony  than  he  had  done  the 
prayer  for  his  victim's  life  ;  and  Gloucester  then  start- 
ing from  his  knee,  in  a  burst  of  honest  indignation,  ex- 
claimed, "  Oh  !  king,  remember  what  is  done  by  thee 
this  day  !  Refusing  to  give  righteous  judgment  in  fa- 
vour of  one  who  prefers  virtue  to  a  crown  and  life  !  as 
insincere  as  secret  have  been  your  last  conditions  with 
him;  but  they  will  be  revealed  when  the  great  judge 
that  searcheth  all  men's  hearts  shall  cause  thee  to  an- 
swer for  this  matter  at  the  dreadful  day  of  universal 
doom.  Thou  hast  now  given  sentence  on  a  patriot  and 
a  prince  ;   and  then  shall  judgment  be  given  on  thee  1'' 

"  Dangerous,  indeed,  is  his  rebellious  spirit,"  cried 
Edward,  in  almost  speechless  wrath,  "  since  it  affects 
even  the  duty  of  my  own  house  I  Gloucester,  leave 
my  presence  ;  and  on  pain  of  your  own  death,  dare  not 
to  approach  me  till  1  send  for  you  to  see  this  rebel's 
head  on  London  bridge  !" 

To  disappoint  the  revengeful  monarch  of  at  least 
this  object  of  malice,  Gloucester  was  now  resolved  ; 
and  imparting  his  wishes  to  the  warden  of  the  Tower, 
his  trusty  friend,  he  laid  a  plan  accordingly. 

Helen  believed  his  declaration  to  her,  and  bowed  her 
head  in  sign  that  she  was  satisfied  with  his  zeal.  The 
earl,  addressing  Wallace,  continued,  "  Could  I  have 
purchased  thy  life,  thou  preserver  of  mine  !  with  the 
forfeiture  of  all  I  possess,  I  should  have  rejoiced  in  the 
exchange.     But  as  that  may  not  be,  is  there  aught 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  371 

an  the  world  which  I  can  do  to  admmister  to  thy 
wishes?" 

"  Generous  Gloucester  1"  exclaimed  Wallace, "how 
unwearied  has  been  your  friendship!  But  I  shall  not 
tax  it  much  farther.  I  was  writing  my  last  wishes, 
when  this  angel  entered  my  apartment:  she  will  now  be 
the  voice  of  William  Wallace  to  his  friends.  But  still 
I  must  make  you  one  request,  and  one  which  I  trust 
will  not  be  out  of  your  power.  Let  this  heart,  ever 
faithful  to  Scotland,  be  at  least  buried  in  its  native  coun- 
try.— V/hen  I  cease  to  breathe,  give  it  to  Helen,  and  sh€ 
will  mingle  it  with  the  sacred  dust  of  those  I  love.  For 
herself,  dear  Gloucester !  ah  !  guard  the  vestal  purity 
and  life  of  my  best  beloved,  for  ihere  are  those  who, 
when  I  am  gone,  may  threaten  both." 

Gloucester,  who  knew  that  Wallace  meant  the  Lords 
Soulis  and  De  Valence  in  this  apprehension,  pledged 
himself  for  the  performance  of  his  first  request ;  and 
for  the  second,  he  assured  him  that  he  would  protect 
Helen  as  a  sister.  But  she,  regardless  of  all  other 
evils  than  that  of  being  severed  from  her  dearest  and 
best  friend,  exclaimed  in  bitter  sorrow,  "Wherever  I 
am,  still,  and  for  ever,  shall  all  of  Wallace  that  re- 
mains on  earth  be  with  me.  He  gave  himself  to  me, 
and  no  mortal  power  shall  ev-er  divide  us !" 

Gloucester  could  not  reply  before  the  voice  of  the 
warden,  calling  to  him  that  the  hour  of  the  ^^ates  being 
shut  was  arrived,  compelled  him  to  bid  his  friend  fare- 
v/ell.  He  grasped  the  hand  of  Wallace  with  a  stroitg 
emotion ;  for  he  knew  that  the  next  time  he  should 
meet  him  would  be  on  the  scaffold.  During  the  mo- 
ments of  this  parting,  Helen,  with  her  hands  clasped  on 
her  knees,  and  her  eyes  bent  downwards,  inwardly  and 
earnestly  invoked  the  Almighty  to  endow  her  with  for- 
titude to  bear  the  horrors  she  was  to  witness,  that  she 
Hiightnot,by  her  agOnies,addto  the  tortures  of  Wallace. 

The  cheering  voice  that  was  ever  music  to  her  ears^ 
recalled  her  from  this  devout  abstraction.  He  laid  his 
hand  on  hers,  and  held  such  sweet  discourse  with  her, 
on  the  approaching  end  of  all  his  troubles,  of  his  ever- 
lasting beatitude,  that  she  listened  and  wept,  and  even 
smiled.    «  Yes,"  added  he,  "  a  little  while,  and  my  vir- 


372  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

gin  bride  shall  give  me  her  clear  embrace  in  heaven  , 
and  my  Marion's  generous  soul  will  join  the  blest  com- 
munion ! — She  died  to  preserve  my  life  : — you  suffered 
a  living  death  to  maintain  ray  honour  !  Can  1  then  di- 
vide ye,  noblest  of  created  beings,  in  my  soul  I  Take 
then,  my  heart's  dear  Helen,  thy  Wallace's  last  earthly 
kiss  1"  She  bent  towards  him  and  fixed  her  lips  to  his. 
It  was  the  first  time  they  had  met;  his  parting  w^ords 
still  hung  on  them,  and  an  icy  cold  ran  through  all  her 
veins.  "  I  have  not  many  hours  to  be  with  thee,  and  yet 
a  strange  drowsiness  overpowers  my  senses;  but  I  shall 
speak  to  thee  ageiin  I"  He  looked  up  as  he  spoke,  with 
such  a  glance  ci]^]y  love,  that  not  doubting  he  was  now 
bidding  her  indeed  his  last  farewell ;  that  he  was  to  pass 
from  this  sleep  out  of  the  power  of  man;  she  pressed 
his  hand  without  a  word,  and  as  he  dropt  his  head  upon 
her  lap,  with  an  awed  spirit  she  saw  him  sink  to  pro- 
found repose. 


CHAP.  XXXV. 

XjONG  and  silently  had  she  watched  his  rest.  So  gen- 
tle was  his  breath,  that  he- scarcely  seemed  to  breathe ; 
and  often,  during  her  sad  vigils  did  she  stoop  her  cheek 
to  feel  the  respiration  which  bore  witness  that  his  out- 
raged spirit  was  yet  fettered  to  earth.  She  tremblingly 
placed  her  hand  on  his  heart ;  but  still  its  warm  beats 
spake  comfort  to  hers.  The  soul  of  Wallace,  as  well 
as  his  beloved  body,  was  yet  clasped  in  her  arms. 
^'  The  arms  of  a  true  sister  enfold  thee,"  murmured  she 
to  herself,  "  and  would  bear  thee  up,  to  lay  thee  on  the 
bosom  of  thy  martyred  wife  ;  and  there,  how  wouldst 
thou  smile  upon  and  bless  me  !" 

The  first  rays  of  the  dawn  should  upon  his  peaceful 
face,  just  as  the  door  opened  and  a  priest  appeared.  He 
held  in  his  hands  the  sacred  cup,  and  the  chalice  for 
performing  the  rites  of  the  dying.  At  this  sight,  the 
harbinger  of  a  fearful  doom,  the  fortitude  of  Helen  for- 
sook her;  i-nd  throwing  her  arms  franticly  over  the 
sleeping  Wallace)  she  exclaimed,  "  He  is  dead  !  Ms 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  373 

sacrament  is  now  with  the  Lord  of  Mercy  1" — Her  voice 
awakened  Wallace  ;  he  started  from  his  position  :  and 
Helen,  (seeing  that  he,  whose  gliding  to  death  in  his 
sleep  she  had  so  lately  deprecated,  now  indeed  lived  to 
mount  the  scaffold ;)  in  unutterable  horror,  fell  back 
with  a  heavy  groan. 

Wallace  having  accosted  the  priest  with  a  reveren- 
tial welcome,  turned  to  Helen,  and  tenderly  whispered 
her,  "  Let  not  the  completion  of  my  fate,  dearest  half  of 
myself!  shake  your  dependance  on  the  only  True  and 
Just.  Rejoice  that  Wallace  has  been  deemed  worthy 
to  die  for  his  virtues.  And  what  is  death,  my  Helen, 
that  we  should  shun  it  even  to  rebelling  against  the 
Lord  of  Life  ? — Is  it  not  the  door  which  opens  to  us  im- 
mortality ?  and  in  that  blest  moment,  who  will  regret 
that  he  passed  th"ough  it  in  the  bloom  of  his  years  ?-— 
Come  then,  sister  of  my  soul,  and  share  with  thy  Wal- 
lace the  last  supper  of  his  Lord  ;  the  pledge  of  the  hap- 
py eternity  to  which,  by  his  grace,  I  now  ascend  1" 

Helen,  conscience-struck,  and  re-awakened  to  holy 
confidence  by  the  heavenly  composure  of  his  manner, 
obeyed  the  impulse  of  his  hand;  and  they  both  knelt 
together  before  the  minister  of  peace.  As  the  sacred 
tight  proceeded,  it  seemed  the  indissoluble  union  of 
Helen's  spirit  with  that  of  Wallace  : — "  My  life  will 
expire  with  hisl"  was  her  secret  response  to  the 
venerable  man's  exhortation  to  the  passing  soul ; 
and  as  he  sealed  Wallace?  with  the  holy  cross  under  the 
last  unction  ;  as  one  who  believed  herself  standing  on 
the  brink  of  eternity,  she  longed  to  share  also  that  mark 
of  death.  At  that  moment  the  dismal  toll  of  a  bell 
sounded  from  the  top  of  the  Tower.  The  heart  of  He- 
len paused.  The  warden  and  his  train  entered.  "  I  will 
follow  him,*'  cried  she,  starting  from  her  knees  ;  "  into 
the  grave  itself'" 

What  was  said,  what  was  done,  she  knew  not,  till  she 
fouid  herself  on  the  scaffold  upheld  by  the  arm  of 
Gloucester.  Wallace  stood  before  her  with  his  hands 
bound  across,  and  his  noble  head  uncovered.  His  eyes 
were  turned  upwards  with  a  godlike  confidence  in  the 
power  he  served.  A  silence,  as  of  some  desert  waste, 
reigned  throughout  the  thousands  who  stood  below. 

VOL.  11.  II 


Z74  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

The  executioner  approached  to  throw  the  rope  over  the 
neck  of  his  victim.  At  this  sight,  Helen,  with  a  cry 
that  was  re-echoed  by  the  compassionate  spectators, 
rushed  to  his  bosom.  Wallace,  with  a  mighty  strength, 
burst  the  bands  asunder  which  confined  his  arms, 
and  clasping  her  to  him  with  a  forc,e  that  seemed  to 
make  her  touch  his  very  heart;  his  breast  heaved,  as  if 
his  sou^  were  breaking  from  its  outraged  tenement, 
and  while  his  head  sunk  on  her  neck  he  exclaimed  in  a 
low  and  interrupted  voice — "  My  prayer  is  heard  !— . 
Helen,  we  shall  next  meet  to  part  no  more.  May  God 
preserve  my  country,  and — '*  He  stopped.  The  strug- 
gle was  over  in  his  bosom  : — all  there  was  still.  She 
laid  her  hand  on  his  heart;  it  beat  no  more. 

In  a  glow  of  grateful  exultation,  she  half  rose  from 
his  breast,  and  putting  back  the  executioner  with  her 
hand,  cried  aloud,  "  He  is  gone  !  your  cruelties  cannot 
now  reach  him  1'*  and  then  sunk  again  upon  his  bosom. 
The  executioner,  believing  her  Avords  the  mere  excla- 
mation of  frantic  grief,  attempted  to  reason  with  her 
on  the  fruitlessness  of  thus  impeding  the  course  of 
justice:  he  expostulated,  he  threatened;  but  she  re- 
turned no  answer.  Gloucester,  in  an  agitation  which 
hardly  allowed  him  power  to  move  or  speak,  and  yet 
determined  not  to  desert  his  friend  in  his  last  extremi- 
ty, drew  near,  and  whispered  Wallace  to  yield  her  to 
him.  But  all  was  silent  there  I  He  then  remembered 
the  words  which  Wallace  had  said,  That  the  rope  of 
Edward  should  never  sully  his  animate  body.  He 
raised  the  chieftain's  head,  and  looking  on  his  face, 
found  indeed  the  indisputable  stamp  of  death.  "  There,'* 
cried  he,  in  a  burst  of  grief,  letting  it  fall  again  upon 
the  insensible  bosom  of  Helen ;  "  There  broke  the 
noblest  heart  that  ever  beat  in  the  breast  of  man  !" 

The  priests,,  the  executioners,  crowded  round  him  at 
this  declaration.  But  giving  a  command  in  a  low  tone 
to  the  warden,  he  took  the  motionless  Helen  in  his  arms, 
and  carried  her  from  the  scaffold  back  into  the  Tower. 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  375 

CHAP.   XXXVI. 


o 


N  the  evening  of  the  fatal  day  in  which  the  sun 
of  Wallace  set  for  ever  on  his  country,  the  Earl  of 
Gloucester  was  giving  his  latest  directions  for  the 
night  to  the  warden  of  the  Tower,  when  the  door  of 
the  chamber  was  suddenly  burst  open  by  a  file  "f  sol* 
diers.  A  man  in  armour,  with  his  visor  closed,  was  in 
the  midst  of  them.  The  captain  of  the  band  told  the 
warden  that  the  stranger  before  him  had  behaved  in  a 
most  seditious  manner.  He  had  denjanded  admittance 
into  the  Tower ;  and  on  the  sentinel  to  whom  he  spoke, 
answering  that,  in  consequence  of  the  execution  of  Sir 
William  Wallace,  orders  had  been  issued  "  that  no 
strangers  should  enter  the  gates  until  the  following 
morning,"  he  asked  seme  questions  relative  to  the  con- 
demnation of  the  Scottish  chief;  and  finding  that  the 
sentence  of  the  law  had  been  executed  to  the  utter- 
most, he  burst  into  a  pr.ssionate  emotion,  and  uttered 
such  threats  against  the  King  of  England  that  the  cap- 
tain thought  it  his  duty  to  have  him  seized  and 
Ibrought  before  the  warden. 

On  the  entrance  of  the  soldiers,  Gloucester  had  re- 
tired from  observation  into  the  shadow  of  the  room. 
He  turned  anxiously  round  on  hearing  these  particu- 
lars. The  stranger,  who  stood  in  the  midst,  when  the 
captain  ceased  speaking,  fearlessly  threw  up  his  visor, 
and  exclaimed,  "  Take  me  not  to  your  warden  alone, 
but  to  your  king ;  and  there  let  me  pierce  his  con- 
science with  his  infamy — aye,  and  stab  him,  ere  I 
die  !» 

In  this  frantic  adjuration,  Gloucester  discovered 
the  gallant  Bruce.  And  hastening  towards  him  to 
prevent  his  apparently  determined  exposure  of  him- 
self; with  a  few  words  he  dismissed  the  officer  and  his 
guard  ;  and  then  turning  to  the  warden,  "  Sir  Edward," 
said  he,  "  This  stranger  is  not  less  my  friend  than  he 
was  that  of  Sir  William  Wallace  1"  "  Then  far  be  it 
from  me,  earl,  to  denounce  him  to  our  enraged  mon- 
arch.    1  have  seen  noble  blood  enough  already ;  and 


376  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

though  we,  the  subjects  oi"  King  Edward,  cannot  call 
your  late  friend  a  martyr,  yet  we  must  think  his  coun- 
try honoured  in  so  steady  a  patriot ,  and  may  surely 
wish  we  had  many  the  like  in  our  own  !"(")  The 
worthy  old  knight,  judging  that  Gloucester  would  de- 
sire to  be  left  alone  with  the  stranger,  with  these  words 
bowed  and  Avithdrew. 

Bruce,  who  had  hardly  heard  the  observation  of  the 
warden,  on  his  departure  turned  upon  the  earl,  and 
with  a  bursting  heart,  exclaimed,  "  Tell  me,  is  it  true  ? 
Am  I  so  lost  a  wretch  as  to  be  deprived  of  my  best, 
my  dearest  friend  ?  Answer  me  to  the  fact,  that  I  may 
speedily  take  my  course  !"  Gloucester,  alarmed  at 
the  direful  expression  of  his  countenance,  with  a  quiv- 
ering lip,  but  in  silence,  laid  his  hand  upon  his  arm. 
Bruce  too  well  understood  what  he  durst  not  speak ; 
and  shaking  it  off  franticly,  "  I  have  no  friend  1" 
cried  he,  "  Wall .^ce  1  my  brave  and  only  Wallace,  thou 
art  rifled  from  me  !  And  shall  I  have  fellowship  with 
these  ? — No  ;  all  mankind  are  my  enemies  ;  and  soon 
will  I  leave  their  detested  sojourn  !"  Gloucester  at- 
tempted to  interrupt  him  ;  but  he  broke  out  afresh  and 
with  redoubled  violence  ; — "  And  you,  earl,"  cried  he, 
"  lived  in  this  realm,  and  suffered  such  a  sacrilege  on 
God's  most  perfect  work  ?  Ungrateful,  worthless 
man  !  fill  up  the  measure  of  your  baseness :  deliver 
me  to  Edward ;  and  let  me  brave  him  to  his  face.  Oh  I 
let  me  die  covered  with  the  blood  of  thy  enemies,  my 
murdered  Wallace  !  my  more  than  brother!  and  that 
shall  be  the  royal  robes  thy  Bruce  will  bring  to  thee  1" 

Gloucester  stood  in  dignified  forbearance  under  the 
invectives  and  stormy  grief  of  the  Scottish  prince ;  and 
when  exhausted  nature  seemed  to  take  rest  in  momen- 
tary silence,  he  approached  him.  Bruce  cast  on  him 
a  lurid  glance  of  suspicion.  "  Leave  me,"  cried  he, 
"  I  hate  the  whole  world;  and  you  the  worst  in  it,  for 
you  might  have  saved  him,  and  you  did  not;  you  might 
have  preserved  his  sacred  limbs  from  being  made  the 
gazing  stock  of  traitors,  and  you  did  not : — away  from 
me,  apt  son  of  a  tyrant  I  lest  I  tear  you  piece-meal  1" 
"  By  the  heroic  spirit  of  him  whom  this  outrage  on  me 
dishonours,  hear  my  answer,  Bruce  !  And  if  not  on  this 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  srT 

spot,  let  me  then  exculpate  myself  by  the  side  of  his 
body  yet  uninvadedby  a  sacrilegious  touch. — "  How  t'* 
interrupted  Bruce  with  less  harshness,  and  looking 
doubtingly.  Gloucester  continued :  "  All  that  was 
mortal  in  our  friend,  now  lies  in  a  distant  chamber  of 
this  quadrangle.  When  I  could  not  prevail  on  Edr 
ward,  either  by  entreaty  or  reproaches,  to  remit  this 
last  gloomy  vengeance  of  tyrants,  I  determined  to 
wrest  its  object  from  his  hands.  A  notorious  murde- 
rer died  yesterday  under  the  torture.  By  the  assist- 
ance of  the  warden,  after  th^  inanimate  corse  of  oui' 
friend  was  brought  into  this  house  to  be  conveyed  to 
the  scene  of  its  last  horrors,  the  malefactor's  body  was 
placed  on  the  sledge  in  its  stead  ;  and  on  that  murde- 
rer most  justly  fell  the  rigour  of  that  dreadful  sen- 
tence." 

The  whole  aspect  of  Bruce  changed  during  this  ex- 
planation, which  was  followed  by  a  brief  account  of 
their  friend's  heroic  death.  "  Can  you  pardon  my  mad 
reproaches  to  you  ?"  cried  he,  stretching  out  his  hand; 
a  Forgive,  generous  Gloucester,  the  distraction  of  a 
severely  wounded  spirit!"  This  pardon  was  imme- 
diately accorded ;  and  Bruce  impetuously  added, 
"  Lead  me  to  these  dear  remains,  that  with  redoubled 
certainty  I  may  strike  this  steel  deep  into  his  murde* 
rer's  heart !  I  came  to  succour  him  ;  I  now  stay  to 
die, — ^but  not  vmrevenged  !"  "I  will  lead  you,"  return- 
ed the  earl,  "  where  you  shall  learn  a  difierent  lesson. 
His  soul  will  speak  to  you  by  the  lips  of  hisbride,  now 
watching  by  his  sacred  relics."  A  few  words  gave 
Bruce  to  understand  that  he  meant  Lady  Helen  Mar  ; 
and  with  a  deeper  grief,  when  he  heard  in  what  an  aw- 
ful hour  their  hands  were  plighted,  he  followed  his 
conductor  through  the  quadrangle. 

When  Gloucester  gently  opened  the  door  which 
contained  the  remains  of  the  bravest  and  the  best, 
Bruce  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  threshold.  At  the 
further  end  of  the  apartment,  lit  only  by  a  solitary 
lamp,  lay  the  body  of  W^allace  on  a  bier,  covered  with 
a  soldier's  cloak.  Kneeling  by  its  side,  with  her  head 
on  its  bosom,  was  Helen.  Her  hair  hung  disordered 
over  her  shoulders  and  shrouded  with  its  dark  Iockf> 

II  2 


S78  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

the  marble  features  of  her  beloved.  Bruce  scarcely 
breathed.  He  attempted  to  advance,  but  he  staggered, 
and  fell.  She  looked  up  at  the  noise;  but  her  momen- 
tary alarm  ceased  when  she  saw  Gloucester.  He 
spoke  in  a  tender  voice  :  "  Be  not  agitated,  lady;  but 
here  is  the  Earl  of  Carrick." 

"  Nothing  can  agitate  me  more,"  replied  she,  turn- 
ing mournfully  towards  the  prince,  w^ho,  raised  from, 
the  floor  by  Gloucester,  and  opening  his  eyes,  beheld 
lier  regarding  him  with  a  look  as  of  one  already  an  in- 
habitant of  the  grave. — i' Helen!"  faintly  articulated 
Bruce,  approaching  her  ;  "  I  come  to  share  your  sor- 
rows ;  and  to  Jo  more,  to  avenge  them."  "  Avenge 
them  !"  repeated  she,  after  a  pause  ;  "  Is  there  aught 
in  vengeance  that  will  awaken  l^fe  in  these  cold  veins 
again  ?  Let  the  murderers  live  in  the  world  they  have 
made  a  desert  by  the  destruction  of  its  brightest  glo- 
ry ; — and  then  our  home  will  be  his  tomb !"  Again 
she  bent  her  head  upon  his  breast,  and  seemed  to  for- 
get that  she  had  been  spoken  to,  that  Bruce  was  pre- 
sent. 

"  May  I  not  look  on  him  ?"  cried  he,  grasping  her 
hand ;  "  O  !  Helen,  show  me  that  heroic  face  from 
whose  beams  my  heart  first  caught  the  fire  of  virtue  1" 
She  moved,  and  the  clay-cold  features  of  all  that  was 
ever  perfect  in  manly  beauty,  met  his  sight.  But  the 
bright  eyes  were  shut :  the  radiance  of  his  smile  was 
dimmed  in  death  ;  yet  still  that  smile  was  there. 
Bruce  precipitated  his  lips  to  his;  and  then  sinking 
on  his  knees,  remained  in  a  silence  only  broken  by  his 
sighs. 

It  was  an  awful,  and  a  heart-breaking  pause  ;  for  the 
voice  which,  in  all  scenes  of  weal  or  woe,  had  ever 
mingled  sweetly  with  theirs,  M^as  silent.  Helen,  who 
had  not  wept  since  the  tremendous  hour  of  the  morn- 
ing, now  burst  into  an  agony  of  tears  which  seemed  to 
threaten  the  extinction  of  her  being.  Bruce,  aroused 
by  her  smothered  cries  as  she  lay  almost  expiring  up- 
held by  Gloucester,  hurried  to  her  side.  By  degrees 
she  recovered  to  life  and  observance  ;  but  finding  her- 
self removed  from  the  bier,  she  sprung  wildly  towards 
it.  Bruce  caught  her  arm  to  support  her  yet  totteripg 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  379 

steps.  She  looked  steadfastly  at  him,  and  then  at  the 
motionless  body.  "  He  is  there  !"  cried  she,  "  and 
yet  he  speaks  not ! — He  sooths  no^  my  grief — I  weep, 
and  he  does  not  comfort  me ! — And  there  he  lies  I  O  1 
Bruce,  can  this  be  possible  ?  Do  I  really  see  him 
dead  ?-'— And  what  is  death  ?"  added  she  grasping  the 
cold  hand  of  Wallace  to  her  heart ;  "  Diclst  thou  not 
tell  me,  when  this  hand  pressed  mine  and  blessed  me, 
that  it  was  only  a  translation  from  grief  to  joy  ! — And 
is  it  not  so,  Bruce  ?  Behold  how  we  mourn,  and  he  is 
happy  ! — I  will  obey  thee,  my  immortal  Wallace  i" 
cried  she,  casting  her  arms  about  him,  and  placing  her 
cheek  to  his  ;  "  I  will  obey  thee,  and  weep  no  more  1'* 

She  was  silent  and  calm.  And  Bruce,  kneeling  on 
the  opposite  side  of  his  friend,  listened  without  inter- 
ruption to  the  arguments  which  Gloucester  adduced, 
to  persuade  him  to  abstain  altogether  from  discover- 
ing himself  to  Edward,  or  uttering  his  resentments 
against  him,  till  he  could  do  both  as  became  the  man 
for  whom  Wallace  had  sacrificed  so  much,  even  till 
he  was  King  of  Scotland.  "  To  that  end,"  said  Glou- 
cester, "  did  this  gallant  chieftain  live.  For,  in  resto- 
ring you  to  the  people  of  Scotland,  he  believed  he  was 
setting  a  seal  to  their  liberties  and  peace.  To  that 
end  did  he  die,  and  in  the  direful  moment,  uttered 
prayers  for  your  establishment.  Think  then  of  this ; 
and  let  him  not  look  down  from  his  heavenly  dwelling 
and  see  that  Bruce  despises  the  country  for  which  he 
bled,  that  the  now  only  hope  of  Scotland  is  sacrificed  in 
a  moment  of  inconsiderate  revenge  to  the  cruel  hand 
which  broke  his  dauntless  heart !" 

Bruce  did  not  oppose  this  counsel,  but  in  propor- 
tion as  the  f  nes  of  passion  passed  away,  and  left  a 
manly  sorrow  and  determination  of  revenge  in  his  soul, 
he  listened  with  approbation,  and  finally  resolved, 
whatever  violence  he  might  do  his  nature,  not  to  allow 
Edward  the  last  triumph  of  finding  him  in  his  power. 

The  earl's  next  essay  was  with  Helen.  He  feared 
that  a  rumour  of  the  stranger's  indignation  at  the  late 
execution,  and  that  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  had  taken 
him  in  charge,  might,  when  associated  with  the  fact 
th^t  the  widow  of  Sir  William  Wallace  also  remained 


380  THE  searTTisH  chiefs. 

under  his  protection,  awaken  some  suspicion;  and  di- 
rect investigations,  too  likely  to  discover  the  imposi- 
tion he  had  put  on  the  executioners  of  the  last  clause  in 
his  royal  father's  most  iniquitous  sentence.  He  there- 
fore explained  his  new  alarm  to  Helen,  and  conjured 
her,  if  she  would  yet  preserve  the  hallowed  remains 
before  her  from  any  chance  of  violence,  (which  her 
lingering  near  them  might  induce,  by  attracting  notice 
to  her  movements,)  she  must  consent  almost  imme- 
diately to  leave  the  kingdom.  The  valiant  and  ever 
faithful  heart  of  Wallace  should  be  her  companion  ; 
and  an  English  captain,  who  had  partaken  of  his  cle- 
mency at  Berwick,  should  be  her  trusty  conductor  to 
her  native  land.  To  bear  away  every  objection,  before 
she  returned  any  answer ,  he  added,  that  Bruce  should 
be  protected  by  him  with  strict  fidelity,  till  some  safe 
opportunity  should  offer  for  his  taking  to  Scotland  the 
sacred  corse,  which  must  ever  be  considered  as  the 
most  precious  relic  in  that  country. 

"  As  heaven  wills  the  trial  of  my  heart,"  returned 
she,  "  so  let  it  be  1"  and  bending  her  head  on  the 
dear  pillow  of  her  rest,  the  bosom  which,  cold  and  de- 
serted as  it  was  by  its  heavenly  habitant,  was  still  the 
bosom  of  her  Wallace,  the  temple,  rendered  sacred 
by  the  footsteps  of  a  God  ! — For,  had  not  virtue  and 
Wallace  dwelt  there  ?  and  where  virtue  is,  there 
abides  the  spirit  of  the  holy  one  !  She  passed  the  re- 
mainder of  the  night  in  vigils,  which  were  not  less 
devoutly  maintained  by  the  chastened  heart  of  the 
Prince  of  Scotland. 


CHAP.  XXXVH. 

X  HE  tidings  c^  the  dreadful  vengeance  which 
Edward  had  taken  against  the  Scottish  nation,  by  pour- 
ing all  his  wrath  upon  the  head  of  Wallace,  whose  on- 
ly offence  was  known  to  be  that  of  having  served  his 
country  too  faithfully,  struck  like  the  lightning  of  hea- 
ven through  the  souls  of  men.    The  English  tixnied 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  38! 

blushing  from  each  other,  and  ventured  not  to  breathe 
the  name  of  a  man  whose  virtues  seemed  to  have  found 
him  a  sanctuary  in  every  honest  heart.  But  when  the 
news  reached  Scotland,  the  indignation  was  general. 
All  envyings,  ail  strife  were  forgotten  in  unqualified 
resentment  of  the  deed.  There  had  not  been  a  man, 
even  amongst  the  late  refractory  chieftains,  except- 
ing the  Cummins,  and  their  coadjutors  Soulis  andMen- 
teith,  who  believed  that  Edward  seriously  meant  to 
sentence  the  patriot  Wallace  to  a  severer  fate  than 
that  which  he  had  pronounced  against  his  rebellious 
vassal,  the  exiled  Baliol.  His  execution,  (for  none 
but  those  who  were  in  the  confidence  of  Gloucester 
knew  that  heaven  had  snatched  him  from  the  disho- 
nour of  so  vile  a  death,)  was  therefore  so  unexpected, 
that  ^e  first  promulgation  of  it  excited  such  ah  ab- 
horrence of  the  perpetrator  in  every  breast,  that  the 
whole  country  rose  as  one  man,  and  threatened  to 
march  instantly  to  London,  and  sacrifice  the  tyrant  on 
his  throne. 

At  this  crisis,  when  the  mountains  of  the  north  seem- 
ed heaving  from  their  base  to  overwhelm  the  blood-stain- 
ed fields  of  England,  every  heart  which  secretly  rejoiced 
in  the  late  sanguinary  event,  quailed  within  its  pos- 
sessor as  he  tremblingly  awaited  the  moment  when  the 
consequences  of  the  fall  of  Wallace  should  prove  the 
ruin  of  his  enemies.— -At  this  instant,  when  the  furies 
armed  every  clan  in  Scotland,  Kirkpatrick,  at  the  head 
of  a  band  of  Wallace*s  old  soldiers,  breathing  forth 
revenge  like  a  consuming  fire  before  them,  led  the 
way  to  the  general  destruction  of  Edward's  newly  es- 
tablished power  in  the  country.  John  Cummin,  the 
Regent,  stood  aghast.  He  foresaw  his  own  downfal 
in  this  re-awakened  enthusiasm  for  the  man  whom  his 
treachery,  or  pusillanimity,  all  saw  had  been  the  first 
means  of  betraying  to  his  enemies.  Baffled  in  the  aim 
of  his  own  ambition,  by  the  very  means  he  had  taken 
to  efi'ect  it,  he  saw  no  alternative  but  to  throw  himself 
at  once  upon  the  bounty  of  England  ;  and  to  this  pur- 
pose he  bethought  him  of  the  only  chance  of  preserv- 
ing the  power  of  Edward,  and  consequently  his  own, 
in  Scotland.     Knowing  by  past  events,  that  this  tern- 


382  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

pest  of  the  soul,  excited  by  remorse  in  some,  and  gra- 
titude in  others,  could  only  be  maintained  to  any  con- 
clusive injury  to  England  by  a  royal  hand  ;  and  that 
that  hand  was  expected  to  be  Bruce's ;  he  determined 
at  once,  that  the  prince  to  whom  he  had  sworn  fealty, 
and  to  whom  he  owed  his  present  elevation,  should 
follow  the  fate  of  his  friend.  By  the  spies  v.hich  he 
constantly  kept  round  Hunting-tower,  he  was  ap- 
prized that  Bruce  had  set  off  towards  London  in  a 
vessel  from  Dundee  ;  and  on  these  grounds  he  sent  a 
dispatch  to  King  Edward,  informing  him  that  destiny 
had  established  him  supreme  lord  of  Scotland,  for 
now  its  second  and  its  last  hope  had  put  himself  as 
it  w^ere  into  his  hands.  With  this  intelligence  ho 
gave  a  particular  account  of  all  Bruce's  proceedings, 
from  the  time  of  his  meeting  him  wiih  Wallace  in 
France,  to  his  present  following  that  chief  to  London. 
He  then  craved  his  majesty's  pardon  for  ever  having 
been  betrayed  into  an  union  with  such  conspirators, 
and  repeated  his  hope  that  the  restitution  he  made  in 
thus  showing  him_  where  to  find  his  last  opponent, 
would  fully  convince  him  of  his  penitence  and  duty. 
He  closed  his  letter  by  urging  the  king  to  take  in- 
stant and  effectual  measures  to  disable  Bruce  from 
disturbing  the  quiet  of  Scotland,  or  ever  again  clispu- 
ang  his  royal  claims. 

Gloucester  was  in  the  presence  when  this  epistle 
was  delivered  in  and  read  by  his  majesty.  On  the 
suit  of  his  daughter,  Edward  had  been  reconciled  to 
his  son-in-law ;  but  when  he  showed  to  him  the  con- 
tents of  Cummin's  letter,  with  a  suspicious  smile  he 
said  in  a  low  voice,  "  In  case  you  should  know  any 
thing  of  this  new  rebel's  lurking  place,  you  leave  not 
this  room  till  he  is  brought  before  mc.  See  to  your 
obedience,  Hugh,  or  your  head  shall  follow  Wal- 
lace's." 

The  king  instantly  withdrew :  and  the  earl,  aware 
that  search  would  most  probably  be  made  through  all 
his  houses,  sought  in  his  own  mind  for  some  expedi- 
ent to  apprize  Bruce  of  his  danger.— To  write  in  the 
presence-chamber  was  impossible  :  to  deliver  a  mes- 
sage in  a  whisper  would  be  very  hazardous,  for  most 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  S83 

tif  the  surrounding  courtiers  saw  the  frown  with  which 
the  king  had  left  the  apartment,  and  marked  the  com- 
mands he  gave  the  marshal :  "  See  that  the  Earl  of 
Gloucester  quits  not  this  room  till  I  return." 

The  earl,  in  the  confusion  of  his  thoughts,  turned 
his  eye  on  Lord  Montgomeiy,  who  had  only  arrived 
that  very  morning  from  ?n  Embassy  to  Spain.  He 
had  heard  with  unuUerable  horror  the  fate  of  Wal- 
lace ;  and  extending  his  interest  in  him  to  those 
whom  he  loved,  he  had  arranged  with  Gloucester  to 
accompany  him  that  very  evening  to  pledge  his  friend- 
ship to  Bruce.  To  Montgomery,  !.hen,  as  to  the  only 
man  acquainted  vvith  his  secret,  he  turned ;  and  tak- 
ing his  spurs  off  his  feet,  and  pulling  out  a  purse 
of  gold,  he  said  aloud,  and  with  as  easy  an  air  as  he 
could  assume,  -'  Here,  my  Lord  Montgomery  ;  as  you 
are  going  directly  to  Highgate,  I  will  thank  you  to 
call  at  m.y  lodge,  and  put  these  spurs  and  this  purse 
into  the  hands  of  the  groom  vve  spoke  of;  he  will 
know  what  use  to  make  of  them."  He  then  turned 
negligently  on  his  heel,  and  Montgomery  quitted  the 
apartment. 

The  apprehension  of  this  young  lord  was  not  less 
quick  than  the  invention  of  his  friend.  He  guessed 
that  the  Scottish  prince  was  beti^ayed ;  and  to  l^ender 
his  escape  the  less  likely  to  be  traced,  (the  ground 
being  wet  and  liable  to  retain  impression,)  before  he 
went  to  the  lodge  he  dismovmted  in  the  adjoining 
wood,  and  with  his  .own  hands  reversed  the  iron  on 
the  feet  of  the  animal  he  had  provided  for  Bruce.  He 
then  proceeded  to  the  house,  and  found  the  object  of 
his  mission  disguised  as  a  priest,  and  in  the  chapel 
paying  his  vesper  adorations  to  the  Almighty  Being 
on  whom  his  whole  dependance  hung.  Uninfluenced 
by  the  robes  he  wore,  his  was  the  devotion  of  the  soul : 
and  not  unaptly  at  such  an  hour  came  one  to  deliver 
him  from  a  danger  which,  unknown  to  himself,  was 
then  v/ithin  a  few  minutes  of  seizing  its  prey. 

Montgomery  entered,  and  being  instantly  recog- 
nized by  Bruce,  the  ingenuous  prince,  never  doubting 
a  noble  heart,  stretched  out  his  hand  to  him — "I 
"  take  it,"  returned  the  earl,  «  only  to  give  it  a  part- 


384  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

ing*  grasp.  Behold  these  spurs  and  purse  sent  to  you 
by  Gloucester  !-— You  know  their  use.  Without  fur- 
ther observation  follow  me."  Montgomery  was  thus 
abrupt,  because,  as  he  left  the  palace,  he  had  heard 
the  marshals  give  orders  for  different  military  detach- 
ments to  search  every  residence  of  Gloucester  for 
the  Earl  of  Carrick,  and  he  did  not  doubt  that  the 
party  dispatched  to  Highgate  were  now  mounting  the 
summit  of  the  hill. 

Bruce,  throwing  off  his  cassoc  and  cowl,  again  ap- 
peared in  complete  eirmour ;  and  after  bending  his 
knee  for  a  moment  on  the  stone  which  covered  the 
remains  of  Wallace,  he  followed  his  friend  from  the 
chc^pel,  through  a  solitary  path  in  the  park  to  the 
centre  of  the  wood.  Montgomeiy  pointed  to  the 
horse.  Bruce  grasped  the  hand  of  his  faithful  con- 
ductor with  fervency  ;  "  I  go,  Montgomery,"  said  he, 
"  to  my  kingdom.  But  its  crown  shall  never  clasp 
my  brows  till  the  remains  of  Wallace  return  to  their 
country.  And  whether  peace  or  the  sword  restore 
them  to  Scotland,  still  shall  a  king's,  a  brother's  friend- 
ship, unite  my  heart  to  Gloucester  and  to  you."  As 
he  spoke,  he  vaulted  into  his  saddle  ;  and  receiving 
the  cordial  blessings  of  Montgomery,  he  touched  his 
good  steed  with  his  pointed  rowels,  and  was  out  of 
sight  in  an  instant.  Q') 


CHAP.  XXXVIII. 


X\-BOUT  the  hour  of  twilight,  on  the  eighth  day 
after  Bruce  had  cast  his  last  look  on  the  capital  of 
England, — itliat  scene  of  his  long  captivity  under  the 
spell  of  delusion,  that  theatre  of  his  family's  disgrace, 
and  of  his  own  eternal  regrets  !— he  crossed  the  little 
stream  which  marked  the  oft-contended  barrier  land 
of  the  two  kingdoms.  He  there  checked  the  headlong 
speed  of  his  horse,  and  having  alighted  to  give  it  breath, 
walked  by  its  side,  musing  on  how  different  were  the 
feelings  with  which  he  now  entered  Scotland,  from 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  oio 

flie  buoyant  emotions  with  whicli  he  had  sprung  on 
its  shore  in  the  beginning  of  the  year.  These  thoughts, 
as  full  of  sorrow  as  of  hope,  had  not  occupied  him 
long,  when  he  espied  a  man  in  the  Red  Cummin's  co- 
lours, galloping  towards  him.  He  guessed  him  to  be 
some  new  messenger  of  the  Regent  to  Edward,  and 
throwing  himself  before  the  horse,  caught  it  by  the 
bridle,  and  commanded  its  rider  to  deliver  to  him  the 
dispatches  which  he  knew  he  carried  to  the  King  of 
England.  The  man,  as  was  expected,  refused,  and 
striking  his  spurs  into  his  beast,  tried  to  trample 
down  his  assailant.  But  Bruce  was  not  so  to  be  put 
from  his  aim.  The  manner  of  the  Scot  convinced 
him  that  his  suspicions  were  right,  and  putting  forth 
his  nervous  arm,  with  one  action  he  pulled  him  from 
his  saddle  and  laid  him  prostrate  on  the  ground. 
Again  he  demanded  the  papers  :  "  I  am  your  prince," 
cried  Bruce,  "  and  by  the  allegiance  you  owe  to 
Robert  Bruce,  I  command  you  to  deliver  them  into 
my  hands.  Life  shall  be  your  reward.  Immediate 
death  the   punishment  of  your  obstinacy.*' 

In  such  an  extremity,  the  man  did  not  hesitate  : 
and  taking  from  his  bosom  a  sealed  packet,  im- 
mediately resigned  it.— -Bruce  ordered  him  to  stand 
before  him  till  he  Imd  read  the  contents.  The  poor 
fellow,  trembling  with  terror  of  this  formidable  free- 
booter, (for  he  place<l  no  l>elief  in  the  declaration 
that  he  was  the  Prince  of  Scotland,)  obeyed,  and  Bruce 
breaking  the  seals,  found,  as  he  expecrecL  a  long  epis- 
tle from  the  Regent,  urging  the  sangiiirary  aim  of  his 
communications.  He  reiterated  his  arguments  for  the 
expediency  of  speedily  putting  Robert  Bruce  to  death  ; 
he  represented  "  the  danger  that  there  was  in  dekty, 
lest  a  man  so  royally  descended,  and  so  popular  as  }ie 
had  become,  (since  it  was  now  publicly  vmderstood 
that  he  had  already  fought  his  country's  battles  under 
the  name  of  Sir  Thomas  de  Longueville,)  should  tin4 
means  of  placing  himself  at  the  head  of  so  many  zea- 
lots in  his  favour.  These  circumstances,  so  propi- 
tious to  am.bition,  and  his  nov\^  adding  personal  re- 
venge to  his  former  boldness  and  policy,  would,  at  this 
juncture,  (the  Rcf^crit  pronounced,)  should  he  arrive 

vol  .  It.  KK 


386  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

in  Scotland  turn  its  growing  commotions  to  the  mo&i 
oecisive  uses  against  the  English  power.'*  He  con- 
raided  with  saying,  that  the  Lords  Loch-awe,  Doug- 
las, and  Ruthven,  were  come  down  from  the  High- 
tands  with  a  multitudinous  army,  to  drive  out  the 
Southron  garrisons,  and  repossess  themselves  of  the 
fortresses  of  Stirling  and  Edinburgh.  That  Lord 
Bothwell  had  returned  from  France  with  the  real  Sir 
Thomas  de  Longueville,  a  knight  of  great  valiancy. 
And  that  Sir  Roger  Kirkpatrick,  after  having  massa- 
cred half  the  English  Castellans  in  the  border  coun- 
ties, was  now  lying  at  Torthorald  ready  to  commence 
his  murderous  reprisals  through  the  coasts  of  Gal- 
loway. For  himself,  he  told  the  king,  that  he  had  se- 
cretly removed  into  the  Franciscan  monastery  at  Dum- 
fries, where  he  should  most  anxiously  await  his  ma- 
jesty's pardon  and  commands." 

Bruce  closed  the  packet.  To  prevent  his  designs 
being  blown  before  they  were  ready  to  open,  he  laid 
his  sword  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  man.  "  You  arc 
my  prisoner,"  said  he,  "  but  fear  not.  I  only  mean 
to  hold  you  in  safety  till  your  master  has  answered  for 
his  treason." — The  messenger  thought  that  whoever 
this  imperious  stranger  was,  he  saw  a  truth  in  his 
eyes  which  ratified  this  assurance,  and  without  oppo- 
sition he  walked  before  him  till  they  stopped  at  Tor- 
thorald. 

Night  had  closed  in  when  Bruce  sounded  his  bugle 
under  the  v.'alls.  Kirkpatrick  himself  answered  from 
the  embrasure  over  the  Barbican-gate,  and  demanded 
who  desired  admittance.  "  None,"  added  he,  "  that  is 
not  a  true  Scot,  need  venture  his  neck  v/ithin  these 
towers  1"  "  'Tis  the  avenger  of  Sir  William  Wal- 
lace," was  the  reply.  The  gates  ilew  open  at  th3 
v/ords,  and  Kirkpatrick  standing  in  the  arch-way  amid 
a  blaze  of  torches,  received  his  guest  with  a  brave  v.el- 
come. 

Bruce  spoke  no  more  till  he  entered  the  banqueting 
hall,  where  he  found  three  other  knights.  He  then 
turned  to  Kirkpatrick,  "  My  valiant  friend,"  said  he, 
«*  order  your  servants  to  keep  that  Scot,"  pointing  to 
^he  meiisenger  of  Cummin,  "in  s'afe  custody  till  I 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  38/ 

command  his  release  :  but  till  then,  let  him  be  treated 
with  the  lenity  v/hich  shall  ever  belong  to  a  prisoner 
of  Robert  Bruce !"  As  he  spoke,  he  threw  i:p  his 
visor ;  and  Kirkpatrick,  who  witli  others,  had  heard 
the  report  that  the  De  Longueviile,  Avho  had  been  the 
companion  of  Wallace,  was  their  rightful  prince,  now 
recognized  the  well-known  features  of  the  brave  io- 
reigner  in  the  stranger  before  him.  Not  doubting 
the  verity  of  his  words,  he  bent  his  knee  with  the  ho- 
mage due  to  his  king  ;  and  in  the  action  was  imme- 
diately followed  by  Sir  Eustace  Maxwell,  Sir  James 
Lindsay,  aiid  Adam  Fleming,  v/ho  were  the  other 
knights  present. 

"  I  come,'*  cried  the.  prince,  "  in  the  spirit  of  my 
heart's  sovereign  and  friend,  the  now  immortal  Wal- 
lace, to  live  or  to  die  with  you  in  the  defence  of  my 
country's  liberties.  With  such  assistance  as  yours, 
his  invincible  coadjutors,  and  with  the  blessing  of  hea- 
ven on  our  arms,  I  hope  to  redeem  Scotland  from  the 
disgrace  which  her  late  horrible  submission  to  the  ty- 
rant has  fastened  on  her  name.  The  transgressions 
of  my  house  have  been  grievous  :  but  this  last  deadly 
sin  of  my  people,  calls  for  expiation  dire  indeed !— ^ 
And  in  their  crime  they  have  received  their  punish- 
ment. They  broke  from  their  side  the  arm  which 
alone  had  rescued  them  from  their  enemies  !  I  novf 
come  to  save  them  from  themselves.  Their  havinp; 
permitted  the  sacrifice  of  the  rights  of  my  family,  was 
the  first  injury  committed  on  the  constitution,  and  it 
prepared  the  way  for  the  ensuing  tyranny  which  seized 
upon  the  kingdom.  But  by  resuming  these  rights> 
which  is  now  my  firm  purpose,  I  open  to  you  a  way  to 
recover  our  ancient  hereditary  independence.  The 
direful  scene  just  acted  on  the  Tower-hill  of  Londou. 
that  horrible  climax  of  Scottish  treason !  must  con- 
vince  every  reasonable  mind,  that  all  the  late  misfor- 
tunes of  our  country  have  proceeded  from  the  bs.sc 
jealousies  of  its  nobles.  There  then  let  them  die,  and 
may  the  grave  of  Wallace  be  the  tomb  of  dissention  ; 
Seeing  where  their  own  true  interests  point,  surely 
the  brav-c  chieftains  of  this  land  will  rally  round  th'.i' 


o88  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

lawful  prince,  who  here  declares  he  knows  no  medium 
l:)etwcen  deah  and  victory  !" 

The  spirit  with  which  this  address  was  pronounced, 
the  magnanimity  it  conveyed,  assisted  by  the  graces 
of  his  youth  and  noble  deportment,  struck  forcibly  to 
the  hearts  of  his  auditors,  and  aroused  in  double  vigour 
fhose  principles  cf  resentment  with  which  they  were 
already  so  powerfully  actuated.  Kirkpatrick  needed 
no  other  stimulus  than  his  almost  idolatrous  memorv 
of  Wallace,  and  he  listened  with  an  answering  ardour 
lo  Bruce*s  exhortation.  The  prince  next  disclosed  to 
his  now  zealously  pledged  friends,  the  particulars  of 
the  Red  Cummin's  treachery.  "  He  now  lies  at 
Dumfries  I"  cried  KirkpatricJ:,  "  thither  then  let  us 
go,  and  confront  him  with  his  treason.  When  false- 
hood is  to  be  confounded,  it  is  best  to  grapple  with 
the  sorceress  in  the  moment  of  detection :  should  w& 
hesitate,  she  may  elude  our  grasp." 

Dumfries  was  only  a  few  miles  distant,  and  they 
might  reach  the  convent  before  the  first  mattins. 
Fatigue  was  not  felt  by  Bruce  when  in  the  pursuit  of 
a  great  object,  and  after  a  slight  refreshment,  he  and 
his  four  determined  friends  took  horse. 

As  they  h?A  anticipated,  the  midnight  bell  was  ring- 
ing for  prayers  as  the  troop  stopped  at  the  Franciscan 
gate.  Lindsay  having  been  in  the  Holy  Land  during 
the  late  public  struggles,  and  not  being  likely  to  be 
.suspected  of  any  hostility  against  the  inhabitants  of 
the  monastery,  (the  principal  of  which  was  a  Cummin,) 
Alleged  business  with  the  abbot  and  desired  to  see  him. 
On  the  father  bidding  him  welcame,  Bruce  stepped 
Ibrward  and  said,  "  Reverend  sir,  I  come  from  Lon- 
don. I  have  an  affair  to  settle  with  Lord  Badenoch  ; 
^nd  I  knew  by  his  letters  to  King  Edward  that  he  is 
:ecrctly  lodged  in  this  convent,  I  therefore  demand  to 
be  conducted  to  him.'*  This  peremptory  requisition, 
and  the  superior  air  of  the  person  v/ho  made  it,  did 
:iot  leave  the  abbot  room  to  doubt  that  he  was  some 
illustrious  messenger  from  the  King  of  England,  and 
■rvith  hardly  a  demur  he  left  the  other  knights  in  the 
cloisters  of  the  church,  and  led  the  nwble  Southron,  h..^ 
he  thought,)  to  his  kinsinaR. 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  :su 

The  treacherous  Regent  had  just  quitted  the  refec- 
tory, and  retired  to  his  own  apartment,  as  the  abbot 
conducted  the  stranger  mto  his  presence,  Badenoch 
started  frowningly  from  his  seat  at  such  an  unusual 
intrusion.  Bruce's  visor  was  closed.  And  the  eccle- 
siastic perceiving  the  Regent's  displeasure,  dispersed 
it  by  announcing  the  visitant  as  a  messenger  from 
King  Edward.  "  Then  leave  us  alone,"  returned  he, 
unwilling  that  even  this  his  convenient  kinsman 
should  know  the  extent  of  his  treason  against  his 
country.  The  abbot  had  hardly  closed  the  door,  when 
Bruce,  whose  indignant  soul  burnt  to  utter  his  full 
contempt  of  the  wretch  before  him,  hastily  advanced 
to  speak,  but  t»ie  cautious  Badenoch,  fearful  that  the 
father  might  yet  be  within  hearing,  put  his  finger  to 
his  lips.  Bruce  paused,  and  listened  to  the  departing 
steps  of  the  abbot  as  he  passed  along  the  cloisters. 
When  they  were  no  more  heard,  with  one  hand  rais- 
ing his  visor,  and  the  other  grasping  the  scroll  of  de- 
tection— "  Thus,  basest  of  the  base  race  of  Cummin  i' 
exclaimed  he,  "  may  you  for  a  moment  elude  the  uni- 
versal shame  which  awaits  your  crimes." 

At  sight  of  the  face,  on  hearing  the  words  of  Bruce, 
the  unmanly  coward  uttered  a  cry  of  terror  and  rush- 
ed towards  the  door.  "  You  pass  not  here,"  continu- 
ed the  prince,  "  till  I  have  laid  open  all  your  guilt,  and 
pronounced  on  you  the  doom  due  to  a  tieacherous 
friend  and  traitorous  subject.'*  "  Infatuated  Bruce," 
exclaimed  Badenoch,  assuming  an  air  of  insulted 
friendship,  now  that  he  found  escape  impossible- 
♦«  what  false  tongue  has  persuaded  you  thus  to  arraign 
one  who  has  ever  been  but  too  faithfully  the  adherent 
of  your  desperate  fortunes  ? — I  have  laboured  day  and 
night  in  secret  in  your  service,  and  thus  am  I  repaid.'* 

Bruce  smiled  disdainfully  at  this  poor  attempt  to 
throw  dust  in  his  eyes,  and  as  he  stood  with  his  back 
against  the  door,  he  evened  the  murderous  packet, 
and  read  from  it  all  its  contents.  Cummin  turned 
pale  and  red  at  each  sentence. — And  at  last  Bruce 
closing  it,  "  Now,  then,  faithful  adherent  of  Robert 
Bruce  I"  cried  he,  "  say  what  the  man  dese  rves,  who. 
in  these  blood-red  lines  petitions  the  deatlj  of  his  1?/,?- 

KK  3 


390  THE  SCOTTISH  CHiEF:>. 

ful  prince  ?— Oh  !  thou  arch-regicide  !  Doth  not  tny 
very  looks  kill  thee  ?" 

Badenoch,  with  his  eoniplexion  of  a  livid  hue,  and 
his  voice  faltering,  first  attempted  to  deny  the  letter 
having  been  his  hand-writing,  or  that  he  had  any  con- 
cern in  the  former  embassy  to  Edward  :— 'Then  find- 
ing that  these  falsehoods  only  irritated  Bruce  to  high- 
er indignation  ;  and  beside  himself  with  terror  tliat  he 
should  now  be  sacrificed  to  his  prince's  just  resentment; 
he  threw  himself  on  his  knees,  and  confessing  each 
transaction,  implored  his  life  and  pardon  in  pity  to  the 
fear  which  had  alone  precipitated  him  to  so  ungrate^ 
ful  a  proceeding.  *»  Oh  !"  added  he,  "  I  have  given 
ijiyself  to  danger  upon  your  account !  Even  for  your 
ultimate  advantage  did  I  bring  on  my  head  the  perils 
which  now  fill  me  with  dismay  !  Love  alone  for  you 
isiade  me  hasten  the  seizure  and  execution  of  William 
Wallace,  that  insidious  friend,  who  would  have  crept 
iato  your  throne.- — And  then  fear  of  your  mistaking 
the  motives  of  so  good  a  service,  betrayed  me  to 
Jhrow  myself  into  the  arms  of  Edward  1" 

"  Bury  thyself  and  crimes,  thou  foulest  traitor,  deep 
in  the  depths  of  hell,  that  I  may  not  pollute  these 
hands  with  thy  monstrous  blood.  Out  of  my  sight  for 
ever  1"  cried  the  prince,  startbig  away  with  a  tremen- 
dous gesture.  Till  this  moment,  Bruce  was  ignorant 
ihat  Badenoch  had  been  an  instigator  in  the  murder 
uf  Wallace ;  and  forgetting  ail  his  own  personal 
wrongs  in  this  more  mighty  injury,  v/ith  tumultuous 
liorror  in  his  soul,  he  turned  from  the  coward  to  avoid 
the  self-blame  of  stabbing  a  wretch  at  his  feet.  But 
Cxi  that  moment,  Cummin,  who  believed  his  doom  only 
suspended,  rose  from  his  knee  and  struck  his  dirk  in- 
to the  back  of  the  prince.  Bruce  turned  on  him  with 
the  quickness  of  thought,  "  Hah  T'  exclaimed  he,  seiz- 
ing him  by  the  throat,  "  then  take  thy  fate  !  This  ac- 
cursed deed  has  removed  the  only  barrier  between 
vengeance  and  thee,  and  thus  remember  V/illiam 
Wallace  !" — As  the  prince  spoke,  he  plunged  his  dag- 
ger into  the  breast  of  the  traitor.  Cummin  uttered  a 
fearful  cry,  and  rolled  down  at  his  feet  murmuring  im- 
precatiomcS" 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  391 

Bruce  fled  frora  this  scene  of  such  horror.  It  was 
the  first  time  his  arm  had  drawn  blood  but  in  the  field 
of  battle,  and  he  felt  as  if  the  base  tide  had  contami- 
nated his  royal  steel.  In  the  cloisters  he  was  encoun- 
tered by  his  friends. — A  few  words  informed  them  of 
what  had  happened.—"  Is  he  dead  ?"  inquired  Kirk- 
Patrick.  "  I  can  hardly  doubt  it,"  answered  Bruce.—-. 
**  Such  a  matter,"  returned  the  veteran,  "  must  not  be 
left  to  conjecture.  I  will  secure  (w)  him  l"  And 
running  forward  immediately,  followed  by  Lindsay, 
he  found  the  wounded  Regent  crawling  from  the  door 
of  the  cell,  and  throwing  himself  upon  him,  without 
noise  stabbed  him  to  the  heart. 

Before  the  catastrophe  was  known  in  the  convent, 
Bruce  and  his  friends  had  left  it,  and  were  far  on  their 
road  to  Lochmaben,  his  own  paternal  castle.  He  ar- 
rived before  sun-rise,  and  thence  dispatched  Fleming 
10  Lord  Ruthven  with  a  transcript  of  his  designs. 

In  the  same  packet  he  inclosed  a  letter  for  the  Lady 
Isabella.  It  contained  this  brave  resolution,  That  in 
his  present  return  to  Scotland,  he  did  not  consider 
himself  merely  as  Robert  Bruce,  come  to  reclaim  the 
throne  of  his  ancestors,  but  as  the  executor  of  the  last 
and  dying  will  of  Sir  William  Wallace,  which  was, 
chat  Bruce  should  confirm  the  liberty   of  Scotland,  or 

fall   as   Walla.ce   had  done,   invincible  at  his  post 

"  Till  that  freedom  is  accomplished,"  continued  the 
virtuous  prince,  "  I  will  never  shake  the  steadfast 
purpose  of  my  soul,  by  even  one  glance  at  thy  life -en- 
dearing beauties.  I  am  Wallace's  soldier,  Isabella,  as 
he  was  heaven's  !  and  while  my  captain  looks  down 
upon  me  from  above,  shall  I  not  approye  myself  wor- 
thy his  example  ? — I  wooed  you  as  a  knight,  I  v;ill  win 
you  as  a  king  :  and  on  the  day  when  no  hostile  South- 
ron breathes  in  Scotland,  I  will  demand  my  sweetest 
reward,  my  beloved  bride,  of  her  noble  uncle.  You 
shall  come  to  me  as  the  angel  of  peace,  and  in  one 
hour  we  will  receive  the  nuptial  benediction,  and  the 
vows  of  our  people  !" 

The  purport  of  the  prince's  letter  to  Ruthven  was 
well  adapted  to  the  strain  of  the  foregoing.  He  there 
aiinpunced  his  intention  of  immediately  putting  him- 


^2  THE  SCOTl'lSH  CHIEFS. 

Self  at  the  head  of  his  loyal  Scots  on  the  plains  of 
Stirling,  and  there,  declaring  himself  their  lawful 
sovereign,  proclaim  to  the  world  that  he  acknowledge 
ed  no  legal  superior  but  the  Great  Being,  whose  vice- 
gerent he  w^as.  From  that  centre  of  his  kingdom  he 
would  make  excursions  to  its  furthest  extremities; 
and  with  God's  will,  would  either  drive  his  enemies 
from  the  country,  or  perish  with  the  sv/ord  in  his 
hand,  as  became  the  descendant  of  William  the  Lion  i 
as  became  the  friend  of  William  Wallace  1" 

Ruthven  was  encamped  on  the  carse  of  Gowrie 
when  this  letter  was  delivered  to  him.  He  read  it 
aloud  to  his  assembled  chieftains,  and  with  wavinr^ 
bonnets  they  all  hailed  the  approach  of  their  valiant 
prince.  Bothwell  alwie,  whose  soul-devoted  attach- 
ment to  Wallace  could  not  be  superseded  by  any  other 
affection,  allowed  his  bonnet  to  remain  inactive  in  his 
hand,  but  with  the  fervour  of  true  loyalty  he  thanked 
God  for  thus  bringing  the  sovereign  whom  his  friend 
loved,  to  bind  in  one  the  contending  interests  of  his 
country  ;  and  to  wrest  from  the  hands  of  that  friend's 
assassin,  the  sceptre  for  which  he  had  dyed  them  so 
aeep  in  blood. 


CHAP.  XXXIX. 


1  HE  word  of  Bruce  was  as  irreversible  as  his 
spirit  was  determined.  No  temptation  of  indulgence 
could  seduce  him  from  the  one  ;  no  mischance  of  ad- 
versity, could  subdue  the  other.  The  standard  of  li- 
berty had  been  raised  by  him  amidst  his  faithful  chief- 
tains on  the  carse  of  Gowrie,  and  carried  by  his  victo- 
rious arm  from  east  to  west ;  from  the  most  northern 
point  of  Sutherland  to  the  walls  of  Stirling  :  but  there, 
the  garrison  which  the  treason  of  the  late  Regent  had 
admitted  into  the  citadel,  gave  a  momentary  check  to 
his  career.  The  English  governor  refused  to  surren- 
der on  the  terms  proposed ;  and  while  his  first  flag  of 
tvuce  was  yet  in  the  tent  of  the  Scottish  monarch?  a 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  394 

second  arrived  to  break  off  the  negociation.  King 
Edward  at  the  head  of  a  hundred  thousand  men,  hav- 
ing forced  a  rapid  passage  through  the  Southern  low- 
lands, was  within  a  few  hours  march  of  Stirling  ;  not 
only  to  relieve  that  place,  but  with  a  determination  to 
bury  Scotland  in  her  own  slain,  or  to  restore  it  at  once 
to  his  sole  empire. 

When  this  was  uttered  by  the  English  herald,  Bruce 
turned  to  Ruthven  with  an  heroic  smile  ;  "  Let  him 
come,  my  brave  barons  1  and  he  shall  find  that  Ban- 
nockburn  shall  page  with  Cambuskenneth  1'' 

The  strength  of  the  Scottish  army  did  not  a.mount 
to  more  than  thirty  thousar  '  men  against  this  host  of 
Southrons.  Bruce,  in  his  xmequa.1  contest,  lost  not 
the  advantage  of  choosing  his  ground  first ;  and  there- 
fore, as  his  power  was  deiicient  in  cavalry,  he  so  took 
his  field  as  to  compel  the  enemy,  who  must  act  on  the 
offensive,  to  make  it  a  battle  of  infantry  alone.  To 
protect  his  flank  from  the  innumerable  squadrons  of 
Edward,  he  dug  deep  and  wide  pits  near  to  Bannock- 
burn  ;  and  then  having  overlaid  their  mouths  with 
turf  and  brushwood,  proceeded  to  marshal  his  little 
phalanx  on  the  shore  of  that  brook,  till  his  front 
stretched  to  St,  Ninian's  monastery.  The  centre  was 
led  by  Lord  Ruthven  and  Walter  Stewart,  the  Lord  of 
Bute  ;  the  right  owned  the  valiant  leading  of  Douglas 
and  Ramsay  ;  and  the  left  was  put  in  charge  of  Len*- 
nox,  with  Sir  Thomas  Randolph  as  his  second,  a  brave 
chieftain  who,  like  Lindsay  and  others,  had  lately  re- 
turned from  a  distant  land,  and  now  embraced  the 
cause  of  his  country  with  a  patriot's  zeal.  Bruce 
stationed  him.self  at  the  head  of  the  reserve ;  and 
with  him  was  the  veteran  Loch-awe,  and  Kirkpatrick, 
and  Lord  Bothwell  with  the  true  De  Longueviile  and 
the  brave  J.anarkers  of  Wallace  ;  ail  determined  to 
make  this  division  the  stay  of  their  little  army,  or  the 
last  sacrifice  for  Scottish  liberty.  Before  they  enter- 
ed  on  the  field  the  heads  cf  these  battalions  assem- 
bled around  their  king  in  his  tent,  and  there,  on  the 
mysterious  iron  box,  (which  Douglass  had  caused  to 
be  brought  by  the  abbot  of  Inchaffray  from  St.  Fillan's 
|;Tiory,)  they  swore  to  fill  up  one  grave   rathf^r  thaai 


a94  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS; 

alive  yield  one  inch  of  the  ground  which  Wallace  had 
rendered  doublj  sacred  by  his  victories.  The  abbot, 
who  laid  the  box  before  his  young  monarch,  repeated 
the  prohibition  which  had  been  given  with  it,  and  ad- 
ded, "  since  then  these  canonized  relics,  (for  none 
can  doubt  that  they  are  so,)  have  found  protection  un- 
der the  no  less  holy  arm  of  St.  Fillan,  he  now  delivers 
them  to  your  youthful  majesty  to  penetrate  their  se- 
crets, and  to  nerve  your  mind  with  a  redoubled  trust 
in  the  saintly  host." 

"  The  saints  are  to  be  honoured,  reverend  father  ; 
and  on  that  principle  I  shall  not  invade  their  myste- 
ries, till  the  God  in  whom  alone  I  trust,  marks  mc 
with  more  than  the  name  of  king ;  till  He  establishes 
me  by  victory,  the  approved  champion  of  my  country. 
But  as  a  memorial  that  the  spirits  of  the  blessed  lean 
from  their  bright  abodes  to  wish  well  to  this  day,  let 
these  holy  relics  be  borne  next  our  standard  in  the 
battle !" 

Bruce  having  placed  his  array,  disposed  the  super- 
numeraries of  his  army,  the  families  of  his  soldiers, 
and  other  apparently  useless  followers  of  the  camp, 
under  shelter  of  a  hill  which  would  lie  between  them 
and  the  enemy.  He  ordered  Scrymgeour  to  strike 
the  royal  standard  deep  into  a  stone  which  grew  out 
of  the  ground  in  the  centre  of  his  line.  "  By  it," 
said  he,  "  we  must  this  day  stand  or  fall !" 

The  following  morning  the  whole  of  the  Southron 
army  appeared  in  sight.  The  van,  consisting  of  ar» 
chers,  and  men  at  arms,  was  commanded  by  Earl  de 
Warenne ;  and  the  main  body  was  led  on  by  Edward 
himself,  supported  by  Aymer  de  Valence  and  a  train 
of  his  most  redoubted  generals.  As  they  approached, 
the  warlike  Bishop  of  Dunkeld  appeared  on  the  face 
©f  the  opposite  hill,  between  the  abbots  of  Cambus- 
kenneth  and  InchalTray,  celebrating  mass  in  the  sight 
of  the  opposing  armies.  He  then  passed  along  in 
front  of  the  Scottish  lines  barefoot,  with  the  crucifix 
in  his  hand,  and  in  few,  but  forceful  words,  exhorted 
them  by  every  sacred  hope  to  fight  with  an  unreceding 
step  for  their  rights  and  king  I  At  this  adjuration, 
which  seemed  the  call  of  heaven  itself,  the  Scots  fell 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  395 

©n  their  knees  to  confirm  their  resolution  -with  a  vow. 
The  sudden  humiliation  of  their  posture  excited  an 
instant  triumph  in  the  haughty  mind  of  Edward,  and 
spurring  forward,  he  shouted  aloud,  "  They  yield  1 
They  cry  for  mercy  !'*  "  They  cry  for  mercy  I'*  re- 
turned Percy,  trying  to  withhold  his  majesty,  "but 
not  from  us.  On  that  ground  on  which  they  kneel^ 
they  will  be  victorious,  or  find  their  graves  1" 

The  king,  contemning  this  opinion  of  the  earl,  and 
inwardly  believing  that  now  Wallace  was  gone,  he 
need  fear  no  other  opponent,  ordered  his  men  to 
charge.  The  horsemen,  to  the  number  of  thirty 
thousand,  obeyed ;  and  rushing  forward  to  the  shock> 
with  tlie  hope  of  overwhelming  the  Scots  ere  they 
could  arise  from  their  knees,  met  a  different  destiny. 
They  found  destruction  amid  the  pits  and  hollows  of 
the  way,  and  with  broken  ranks  and  fearful  confusion, 
fell,  or  fled  under  the  missive  w  eapons  which  poured 
€11  them  from  the  adjoining  hill.  De  Valence  was 
overthrown  and  severely  wounded  on  the  first  onset ; 
-and  being  carried  off  the  field,  filled  the  rear  ranks 
with  dismay  ;  while  the  king's  division  was  struck 
with  consternation  at  so  disastrous  a  commencement 
of  an  action  in  w^hich  they  had  promised  themselves 
so  easy  a  victory,  Bruce,  who  felt  his  little  army  much 
distressed  by  the  arrows  cf  the  English,  sent  Both- 
well  round  with  a  resolute  body  of  men  to  attack  the 
archers  on  the  height  they  had  seized.  This  was  in- 
stantly effected  ;  and  Bruce  coming  up  with  his  re- 
serve to  fill  the  deficiencies  which  this  artillery  had 
made  in  his  foremost  ranks,  the  battle  in  the  centre 
became  close,  obstinate,  and  decisive.  Many  fell  be- 
fore the  determined  arm  of  the  youthful  king  ;  but  it 
v/as  the  fortune  of  Bothwell  to  encounter  the  false 
Menteith  in  the  train  of  Edward.  The  Scottish  earl 
was  then  at  the  head  of  the  intrepid  Lanarkers.— . 
"  Fiend  of  the  most  damned  treason  1*'  cried  he, 
"  vengeance  is  come  !"  and  with  an  iron  grasp  throw- 
ing him  into  the  midst  of  the  Lanarkers,  the  wretch- 
ed traitor  breathed  out  his  treacherous  breath  under 
the  strokes  of  a  hundred  swords.  "  So,'*  cried  the 
vcicran,  Ireland,  "  perish  the  murderers  of  William 


G96  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

Wallace  !"  "  So,"  shouted  the  rest,  *<  perish  the  eut- 
nuies  of  the  bravest  of  men  V* 

At  this  crisis,  the  women  and  the  followers  of  the 
Scottish  camp,  hearing  such  an  exclamation  from  their 
friends,  not  doubting  it  was  victory,  impatiently  quit- 
ted their  station  behind  the  hill,  and  appeared  on  the 
summit,  waving  their  bonnets  and  handkerchiefs, 
which  they  had  exultingly  mounted  on  their  staffs^ 
and  re-echoed  with  loud  huzzas  the  shouts  they  had 
heard  from  below.  The  English,  mistaking  these 
people  for  a  new  army,  had  not  the  power  to  recover 
from  the  increasing  confusion  which  had  seized  them 
on  King  Edward  himself  receiving  a  wound  ;  and  pa- 
nic-struck with  the  sight  of  their  generals  falling 
around  them,  they  flung  down  their  arms  and  fled. — 
The  king  narrowly  escaped  being  taken ;  but  being 
mounted  on  a  stout  and  fleet  horse,  he  put  him  to  the 
speed  before  his  pursuing  foe,  till  he  found  shelter  in 
X)unbar :  whence  the  young  earl  of  that  place,  almost 
as  much  attached  to  the  cause  of  England  as  his  father 
was,  gave  him  a  passage  to  England. 

The  Southron  camp,  with  all  its  riches,  fell  into  the 
hands  of  Bruce.  And  when  he  returned  to  Stirling 
from  his  victorious  chase  with  the  keys  of  Edinburgh 
in  his  hand,  and  the  Lord  March  his  prisoner,  (after 
having  stormed  that  nobleman^s  castle,  and  beat  it  to 
the  ground  ;)  he  brought'  happy  news  which  had  met 
him  en  the  way,  that  Edward  had  died  suddenly  of 
chagrin  in  the  palace  of  Carlisle.  So  heaven  had  re- 
moved for  ever  the  prime  instigator  of  Scotland's 
woes  !  and  with  this  intelligence,  as  a  conclusive'ar- 
gument,  he  demanded  the  unconditional  surrender  of 
Stirling  Castle.  The  English  governor  knew  the  no- 
ble nature  of  the  prince  who  made  this  proud  requisi- 
tion ;  and  aware  that  further  opposition  v/ould  be  in 
vain,  he  resigned  the  fortress  to  his  mercy,  and  open- 
ed the  gates In  that  hour  Bruce  entered  as  a  con- 
queror, with  the  whole  of  his  kingdom  at  his  feet : 
for,  from  the  Solway  Frith  to  the  Northern  Ocean,  no 
Scottish  town  nor  castle  owned  a  foreign  master.  The 
acclamations  of  a  rescued  people  rent  the  skies  ;  and 
VihilQ  prayers  and   blessings   poured   on    him   from 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  397 

above,  below,  and  around,  he  did  indeed  feel  himself  a 
king,  and  that  he  had  returned  to  the  land  of  his  fore- 
fathers. While  he  stood  on  his  proud  war-horse  in 
front  of  the  great  gates  of  the  citadel,  now  throwr* 
wide  asunder  to  admit  their  rightful  sovereign,  the 
noble  prisoners  from  the  camp  came  forward,  and 
those  from  the  garrison  appeared.  They  bent  their 
knees  before  him,  and  delivering  their  swords,  receiv-^ 
ed  in  return  his  gracious  assurance  of  mercy.  At  th?s 
moment  all  Scottish  hearts  and  wishes  seemed  rivet- 
ted  on  their  youthful  monarch.  And  he,  dismounting 
from  his  steed  with  a  gallant  grace  that  took  captive 
even  the  souls  of  his  enemies,  raised  his  helmet  off 
his  head  as  the  bishop  of  DunkeM,  followed  by  all  the 
ecclesiastics  in  the  town,  came  to  wait  upon  the  tri- 
umph of  his  king. 

The  beautiful  anthem  of  the  virgins  of  Israel  on 
the  conquests  of  David,  was  chanted  forth  by  the  nuns 
who,  for  this  heaven- iiailowed  hour,  like  the  spirits  of 
the  blest,  revisited  the  v.'orld  to  give  the  chosen  of 
their  land,  .////  hail  I 

The  words,  the  scene,  smote  the  heart  of  Bothweli ; 
he  turned  aside  and  wept.  Where  were  now  the 
buoyant  feelings  with  which  he  had  follov.ed  the  simi- 
lar triumph  of  Wallace  into  these  gates  ?  "  Buried, 
thou  martyred  hero,  in  thy  bloody  grave  1"  New  men, 
<md  new  services,  seemed  to  have  worn  out  remem- 
brance of  the  past ;  but  in  the-  memories  of  even  this 
joyous  crowd,  Wallace  lived,  though  like  a  bright 
light  passed  through  th^.ir  path,  and  gone,  never  more 
to  be  beheld. 

Bruce,  on  entering  the  citadel,  was  told  by  Mow 
bray,  the  English  governor,  that  he  would  find  a  lady 
there  who  was  in  a  frightful  state  of  mental  derange- 
■mcnt.  A  question  or  two  from  the  victorious  mo- 
i-^iarch  soon  informed  him  that  this  was  the  Countess 
of  Strathearn.  On  the  revolted  abthanes  having  sur- 
rendered Wallace  and  the  kingdom  to  England,  the 
joy  and  ambition  of  the  Countess  knew  no  bounds ; 
and  hoping  in  the  end  to  persuade  Edward  to  adjudge 
to  her  the  crown,  to-  silence  the  rivalry  of  the  nobles, 
she  made  it  apparent  to  the  English  king  how  useful 

VOL.    II.  L  L 


398  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.      ^ 

her  services  would  be  in  Scotland  ;  and  with  a  plena- 
ry, though  secret  mission,  she  took  her  course 
through  her  native  land,  to  discover  who  were  inimi- 
cal to  the  foreign  interest,  and  who  likely  to  promote 
her  own  :  and  after  this  circuit,  fixing  her  court  at 
Stirling,  she  lived  there  in  regal  magnificence,  and 
exercised  the  functions  of  a  vice-queen.  At  this  pe- 
riod had  arrived  intelligence  which,  from  some  of  her 
late  embassies  to  London,  Mowbray  thought  would 
fill  her  with  exultation  ;  and  therefore  he  hastened  to 
tell  her  that  the  king  of  England's  authority  was  now 
firmly  established  in  Scotland,  for  that  Wallace  had 
been  executed  on  the  twenty-third  of  August  accord- 
ing to  all  the  forms  of  law  upon  the  Tower-hill. 

At  the  first  declaration  of  this  event,  she  fell  sense- 
less on  the  floor.  It  was  not  until  the  next  morning 
that  she  recovered  to  perfect  animation,  and  then  her 
ravings  were  as  horrible  as  violent.  She  accused  her- 
self of  the  murder  of  Sir  William  Wallace.  She 
seemed  to  hear  him  upbraid  her  with  his  fate ;  and 
her  shrieks  and  tremendous  ejaculations  so  fearfully 
presented  tne  scene  of  his  death  before  the  eyes  of 
her  attendants,  that  the  women  fled  ;  and  none  other 
of  that  sex  would  afterwards  venture  to  approach  her. 
In  these  fearful  moments,  the  dreadful  confession  of 
all  her  premeditated  guilt ;  of  her  infuriate  and  dis- 
appointtid  passion  for  Wallace,  and  her  vowed  re- 
venge ;  were  revealed  under  circumstances  so  shock- 
ing, that  Mowbray  declared  to  the  King  of  Scots  as 
he  conducted  him  towards  her  apartment,  that  he 
would  rather  wear  out  his  life  in  a  rayless  dungeon, 
than  endure  one  hour  of  her  agonies. 

There  was  a  dead  silence  in  her  chamber  as  they 
approached  the  door.  Mowbray  cautiously  opened 
it,  and  discovered  the  object  of  their  visit  at  the  fur- 
ther end  of  the  room.  She  was  seated  on  the  floor, 
enveloped  in  a  mass  of  scarlet  velvet,  which  she  had 
drawn  off"  her  bed  :  her  hands  clasped  her  knees  ;  and 
she  bent  forward,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  door  ait 
which  they  entered.  Her  once  dazzling  beauty  was 
now    ti'ansformed    to   the    terrible    lightning  which 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  3^9 

gleamed  on  the  face  of  Satan  when  hfe  sat  broodmg  on 
the  burning  marl  of  his  new  dominions. 

She  remained  motionless  as  they  advanced.  But 
when  Bruce  stopped  directljf  before  her,  contemplat- 
ing vv'ith  horror  the  woman  whom  he  regarded  as  one 
of  the  murderers  of  his  most  beloved  friend,  she 
sprung  at  once  upon  him,  and  clinging  to  him  with 
shrieks,  buried  her  head  in  his  bosom,  and  exclaimed  ; 
— '-  Save  me  I — Mar  drags  me  down  to  hell ;  I  burn 
there,  and  yet  I  die  not !" — then  bursting  from  Bruce 
with  an  imprecation  that  froze  his  blood,  she  dashed 
to  the  other  side  of  the  chamber,  crying  aloud,  "  He 
tore  out  my  heart  1 — Fiend,  I  took  thee  for  Wallace  ; 
but  I  murdered  him  !"  Her  agonies,  her  shrieks,  and 
her  attempts  at  self-violence  were  now  so  dreadful, 
that  Bruce,  raising  her  bleeding  from  the  stone  hearth 
on  which  she  had  furiously  dashed  her  head,  put  her 
into  the  arms  of  the  men  who  attended  her ;  and  then 
with  an  awful  sense  of  divine  retribution,  left  the 
apartment. 

The  generality  of  the  Southron  prisoners  he  di- 
rected should  be  lodged  in  the  citadel.  But  to  Mow- 
bray he  gave  h'ts  liberty  ;  and  ordered  every  means  to 
facilitate  the  safe  and  commodious  journey  of  that 
brave  knight,  whom  he  requested  to  convey  Lady 
Strathearn  to  her  husband,  with  the  King  of  Scots 
■wishes  that  so  gallant  and  worthy  a  nobleman  might 
soon  be  released  by  heaven  from  so  unhappy  an 
\mion. 


CHAP.  XL. 


H 


.AVING  dispatched  his  army,  under  the  com- 
mand of  the  Lords  Lenox  and  Douglas,  to  spread 
themselves  over  the  face  of  the  border  counties,  till 
that  peace  should  be  signed  by  England  which  he  was 
determined  by  unabated  hostilities  to  compel  ;  ho 
sent  Ruthven  to  Hunting-tower  to  bring  his  affianced 
bride  to  Cambuskenneth  ;  before  v.  hose  altar,  he  had 


^G&  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

informed   the    Bishop  of  Duakeld,   his  nuptial  faith 
should  be  sealed  with  hers. 

At  the  close  of  the  second  day  after  he  had  taken 
these  measures  for  the  security  of  his  kingdom  and 
the  establishment  of  his  own  happinctis,  he  had  just 
returned  to  his  tent  on  the  banks  of  Baimockburn, 
;^for  it  was  from  the  very'  field  of  victory  that  he  had 
promised  to. lead  Isabella  to  the  altar  !  and  therefore 
the  camp  would  be  his  dwelling  until  she  should  ar^ 
rive ;)  when  Grimsby,  his  now  faithful  attendant,  con- 
ducted an  armed  knight  into  his  presence.  The  light 
of  the  lamp  which  stood  on  the  table,  streaming  full 
on  the  face  of  the  stranger,  discovered  to  the  king  his 
English  friend,  the  intrepid  Montgomery.  BrucCj 
with  an  exclamation  of  glad  surprise,  would  have 
clasped  him  in  his  arms,  but  Montgomery  dropping^ 
on  his  knee,  exclaimed,  "  Receive  a  subject  as  well 
as  a  friend,  victorious  and  virt.ious  prince  ! — I  have 
foresworn  the  vassalage  of  the  Plantagenets;  and  thus, 
without  title  or  land,  with  only  a  faithful  heart,  Gilbert 
Hambledon  comes  to  vow  himself  yours  and  Scot- 
land's for  ever. 

Bruce  raised  him  from  the  ground  ;  and  then  wel- 
coming him  with  the  warm  embrace  of  friendship,  in- 
quired of  him  the  cause  of  so  extraordinary  an  abjura- 
tion of  his  legal  sovereign.  "  No  light  matter,"  ob- 
served the  king,  ^'  could  have  so  wrought  upon  my 
noble  Montgomery  1" — ^'  Montgomery,  no  more  !'" 
replied  the  earl  with  indignant  eagerness;  "  When  I 
threw  the  insignia  of  my  earldom  at  the  feet  of  the  un- 
just Edward,  1  toid  him  that  I  would  lay  the  saw  to  the 
root  of  the  nobility  I  had  derived  from  his  house,  and 
cut  it  through  ;  and  that  I  would  sooner  leave  my  pos- 
terity without  titles  and  without  wealth,  than  deprive 
them  of  real  honour.  I  have  done  asl  said  I — And  yet 
T  come  not  wi^thouta  treasure  ;  for  the  sacred  corse  of 
William  W^allace  is  now  in  my  barque,  floating  on  the 
waves  of  the  Forth  1" 

The  subjugation  of  England  would  hardly  have  been 
to  welcome  to  Bruce  as  this  intelligence.  He  receiv- 
ed it  with  an  eloquent,  though  unutterable  look  of  gra- 
titude, which  he  enforced  by  ac  ardent  pressure  of  the 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  401 

narrator*s  hand.  Hambledon  continued  :  "  On  the  late 
tyrant  summonmg  the  peers  of  England  to  follow  him 
to  the  destruction  of  Scotland,  Gloucester  refused  un- 
der a  plea  of  illness,  and  I  could  not  but  shew  a  disin- 
clination to  obey.  This  occasioned  some  remarks 
from  Edward  respecting  my  want  of  allegiance,  and  my 
known  attachment  to  the  Scottish  cause,  which  drev>' 
from  me  the  answer, — That  my  heart  v/ould  not  for 
the  wealth  of  the  world,  permit  me  to  join  him  in  the; 
projected  invasion,  since  I  had  seen  the  spot  in  my  ov/n 
country  where,  actuated  by  a  most  unkingly  jealousy, 
he  had  cut  down  the  flower  of  all  knighthood,  because 
he  was  a  Scot,  and  would  not  sell  his  birth-right !— ».Thc 
king  left  me  in  wrath,  and  threatened,  vrhcn  he  return- 
ed, to  make  me  recant  my  v.'ords : — I  as  proudly  de° 
clared  I  would  maintain  them.  And  this  was  my  situ- 
ation, when,  on  entering  the  prince's  chamber  imme- 
diately on  the  news  of  Edward's  defeat  and  death,  I 
found  John  Le  de  Spencer,  (the  coward  who  had  so 
basely  insulted  Wallace  on  the  day  of  his  condemna- 
tion,) sitting  with  his  highness.  On  my  offering  the 
condolements  due  from  my  rank,  this  worthless  min- 
ion turned  on  me,  and  accused  me  in  the  most  inso- 
lent language  of  rejoicing  in  the  late  king's  ill-success. 
He  taxed  me  with  having  remained  behind  in  London 
for  the  sole  purpose  of  executing  some  plot,  devised 
between  me  and  my  Scottish  partisans,  for  the  subver- 
r.ion  of  the  English  monarchy.  I  denied  the  charge. 
He  enforced  it  with  oaths  and  new  allegations.  The 
prince  furiously  gave  me  the  lie,  and  commanded  me  as 
a  traitor  from  his  presence.  I  refused  to  stir  an  inch 
till  I  had  made  the  base  heart  of  Lo  de  Spencer  retract 
his  falsehood.  The  coward  took  courage  at  his  mas- 
:er's  passion,  and  drawing  his  sword  upon  me,  in  lan*^ 
guage  that  would  blister  my  tongue  to  repeat,  he 
threatened  to  compel  my  departure  ;  and  as  a  first  mo- 
tion, he  struck  me  on  the  face  with  his  weapon.  The 
arms  of  his  prince  could  not  then  save  him ;  I  thrust 
him  through  the  body,  and  he  fell.  Edward  ran  on 
me  with  his  dagger,  but  I  wrested  it  from  him ;  and 
then  it  was  that,  in  reply  to  his  menaces,  I  revoked  my 
fealty  to  a  sovereign  I  despised.     And  leaving  the  pre- 


402         -    THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

sence,  before  the  fluctuations  of  his  versatile  mind 
could  fix  upon  seizing  me,  I  had  borne  away  thQ  body 
of  our  friend  from  its  sanctuary  :  and  embarking  it  and 
myself  on  board  a  ship  of  my  own,  am  now  at  your  feet, 
brave  and  just  king,  a  true  Scot  in  heart  and  loyalty  1" 
"  And  as  a  brother,  generous  Ilambledon  1"  returned 
Bruce,  "  I  receive,  and  will  portion  thee.  My  pater- 
nal lands  of  Cadzow  on  the  Clyde,  shall  be  thine  for 
ever.  And  may  thy  posterity  be  as  worthy  of  the  in- 
heritance, as  their  ancestor  is  of  all  my  love  and  confi- 
dence !"(^) 

Hambledon  having  received  his  new  sovereign's  di- 
rections concerning  the  disembarkation  of  those  sa- 
cred remeiins,  which  the  young  king  declared  that  he 
should  welcome  as  the  pledge  of  heaven  to  bless  his 
victories  with  peace  ;  he  returned  the  same  night  to 
the  haven,  where  Wallace  rested  in  that  sleep  which 
even  the  voice  of  friendship  could  not  disturb. 

At  an  early  hour  next  morning  Bruce  appeared  on 
horseback  armed  cap-a-pee,  with  his  helmet  royally 
plumed,  and  a  mantle  of  the  same  significance  over 
his  shoulders.  Both  well,  (whom  he  had  summoned 
as  soon  as  Hambledon  quitted  the  tent,  to  communi- 
cate to  him  tidings  so  grateful  to  his  heart,)  appeared 
at  his  side.  The  troops  he  had  retained  at  Bannock- 
hum  were  drrvwn  out  on  the  field.  In  a  brief  address 
ibe  unfolded  to  them  the  solemn  duty  to  which  he  had 
called  them  :  to  receive  once  more,  and  for  ever,  to  its 
native  land,  the  body  of  William  Wallace  ! 

At  the  words,  a  cry,  as  if  they  beheld  that  beloved 
chieftain  slain  before  them,  issued  from  every  heart. 
The  news  spread^  ta  the  town:  and  with  tears  and  la- 
mentations, a  vast  crowd  had  collected  themselves 
aroimdthe  royt^l  troop,  just  as  a  messenger  arrived  to 
inform  the  kiilg  that  the  body  was  landed,  and  now 
bearing  towards  him.  Bruce  told  Scrymgeour  to  ele- 
vate the  Scottish  standard  and  begin  the  march.  The 
whole  train  followed  in  speechless  woe,  as  if  each  in- 
dividual had  lost  his  dearest  relative,  and  was  attend- 
ing him  to  the  grave.  Having  passed  the  wood,  they 
came  in  view  of  the  black  hearse  which  covered  all 
^>h^X  now  remained  of  him  who  had  so  lately  crossed 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  400 

these  precincts  in  all  the  panopoly  of  triumphant  war  ^ 
in  all  the  graciousncss  of  peace  and  love  to  man  !— At 
the  sight,  the  soldiers,  the  people,  rushed  forward,  and 
precipitating  themselves  before  the  bier,  which  now- 
stopped,  on  their  knees  implored  for  his  pardon  on  their 
ungrateful  country.  They  adjured  him  by  every  ten- 
der name  of  father,  benefactor,  and  friend;  and  in  such 
a  sacred  presence,  forgetting  that  their  king  was  by, 
they  gave  way  to  a  grief  which  most  eloquently  told, 
the  young  monarch  that  he  who  would  be  respected 
after  William  Wallace,  must  not  only  possess  his  pow- 
er and  valour,  but  imitate  his  virtues. 

Scrymgeour,  who  well  remembered  the  desire  that 
Wallace  had  expressed  on  the  battlements  of  the 
Keep  of  Dumbarton  Castle,  with  a  holy  reference  to 
ihe  vow  he  made  to  him  at  that  time,  now  obeyed  his 
prince,  and  laid  the  standard  of  Scotland  upon  the  palL 
Bruce,  uncovering  his  royal  head,  with  his  kingly 
purple  sv,  eeping  in  the  dust,  walked  before  the  bier, 
shedding  those  tears,  more  precious  in  the  eyes  of  his 
subjects  than  the  oil  which  was  soon  to  pour  upon  his 
brow.  It  was,  as  he  thus  moved  on,  the  mourner  of 
all  mortal  excellence,  that  he  heard  acclamations  min- 
gle with  the  voice  of  sorrow.  "  This  is  our  king, 
worthy  to  have  been  the  friend  of  Wallace  !  worthy  to 
succeed  him  in  the  kingdom  of  our  hearts  ?" 

At  the  gates  of  Cambuskenneth,  the  venerable  ab- 
bot whom  Wallace's  valiant  arm  had  placed  there,  ap- 
peared at  the  head  of  his  religious  brethren ;  and 
without  uttering  the  guief  that  shook  his  aged  frame, 
he  raised  the  golden  crucifix  over  the  head  of  the 
biev  ;  and  after  leaning  his  face  for  a  few  minutes  on  it, 
preceded  the  procession  into  the  church.  None  but 
the  soldiers  entered.  The  people  remained  without ; 
and  as  the  doors  closed  on  them  they  fell  on  the  pave- 
ment, weeping  as  if  the  living  Wallace  had  again  been 
torn  from  them.  ^ 

On  the  steps  of  the  altar  the  bier  rested.  The  Bi- 
shop of  Dunkeld  in  his  pontifical  robes,  received  the 
sacred  deposit  with  a  cloud  of  incense  ;  and  the  peal- 
ing organ,  answered  by  the  voices  of  the  choristers, 
breathed  forth  the  solemn  reouiem'of  the  dead.     The 


404  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

wreathing  frankincense  parted  its  vapour,  and  a  wan 
but  beautiful  form  appeared  clad  in  a  nun's  black  vest- 
ments, and  clasping  an  urn  to  her  breast.  She 
was  supported  by  Lord  Bothwell  towards  the  spot. 
Her  veil  was  open,  and  discovered  a  face  as  of  one  just 
awaked  from  the  sleep  of  death :  it  was  ashy  pale  ; 
but  it  bore  a  celestial  brightness,  which,  like  the  silver 
lustre  of  the  moon,  declared  its  approach  to  the  foun- 
tain of  its  glory.  Her  eye  fell  on  the  bier:  and  with  a 
momentary  strength,  she  left  the  arms  on  which  she 
had  leaned  in  dying  feebleness,  and  rushing  towards 
it,  threw  herself  upon  the  coffin. 

There  was  an  awful  pause  while  Helen  seemed  to 
weep.  But  so  was  not  her  sorrow  to  be  shed.  It 
was  locked  within  the  flood-gates  of  her  heart. 

In  that  suspension  of  the  soul,  when  Bothwell  knelt 
on  one  side  of  the  bier,  and  Bruce  bent  his  knee  on 
the  other,  the  church  door  opened,  and  Ruthven  ad- 
vanced, leading  in  his  agitated  hand  the  Lady  Isabella, 
dressed  in  her  bridal  attire.  She  hurried  forward 
with  her  fair  face  bathed  in  tears  at  the  recital  she  had 
just  heard.  Bruce  stretched  out  his  hand  towards 
her  :  "  Come  here,  my  youthful  bride,  and  let  thy  first 
duty  be  paid  to  the  shrine  of  thy  benefactor  and  mine  ! 
— So  may  we  live,  sweet  excellence,  and  so  may  we 
die,  if  the  like  may  be  our  meed  of  heavenly  glory !" 
Isabella  threw  herself  into  his  arms  and  wept :  and 
Helen,  slowly  raising  her  head  at  these  words,  gazed 
at  her  sister  with  a  look  of  awful  tenderness,  and  then 
turning  her  eyes  back  upon  the  coffin,  as  if  they  avouM 
have  pierced  its  confines,  she  clasped  the  urn  sudden- 
ly to  her  heart  and  exclaimed,  "  Thy  bridal  bed  shall 
be  my  grave  /" 

Bruce  and  Isabella,  not  aware  that  she  repeated 
words  which  Wallace  had  said  to  her,  believing  she 
addressed  them,  turned  to  her  with  portentous  emo- 
tion. She  understood  the  terrified  glance  of  her  sis- 
ter ;  and  with  a  smile,  which  spoke  her  kindred  to  the 
soul  her's  was  panting  to  join,  she  said,  "  I  speak  of 
my  own  espousals.  But  ere  that  moment  comes,  let 
my  Wallace's  hallowed  presence  bless  your  nup- 
tials !-«Thou  wilt  treathe  thy  benediction  through  my 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS.  4C5 

iips  :"  added  she,  laying  her  hand  on  tlje  coffin,  and 
looking  down  on  it  as  if  she  were  conversing  with  its 
inhabitant. 

"  O  !  no,  no ;"  returned  Isabella  with  a  supersti- 
tious dread,  and  shrinking  from  the  almost  unembodi- 
ed  aspect  of  her  sister. 

"  It  is  indeed  her  spirit  that  speaks  ;"  cried  Dun- 
keld,  observing  the  avv^c,  which  not  only  shook  the  ten- 
der frame  of  Isabella,  but  had  communicated  itself  lo 
Bruce,  who  stood,  not  in  fear,  but  in  heart-struck 
veneration  before  the  yet  un-ascended  angci ;  '•  holy 
inspiration,"  continued  the  Bishop,"  beams  from  her 
eyes  ;  and  as  ye  hope  for  further  blessings,  obey  its 
.dictates  !" 

Isabella  bowed  her  head  in  acquiescence.  Bruce, 
as  he  approached  to  take  his  part  in  the  sacred  rite, 
raised  the  hand  which  lay  on  the  pall  to  his  lips.  The 
seremony  began  ;  was  finished  ! — As  the  bridal  notes 
resounded  from  the  organ,  and  the  royal  pair  rose 
from  their  knees,  Helen  held  her  hands  over  them, 
"  God  is  in  this  house  I  And  in  like  manner,  hold 
Hm  in  your  hearts,  your  light  and  glory  -—-Be  you 
blest  in  all  things  as  Wallace  would  have  blessed  you  I 
— From  his  side  I  pour  out  my  soul  upon  you, .my 
sister — my  brother  I — and  with  its  inward  breathed 
prayers  to  the  Giver  of  all  Good  for  your  eternal  hap- 
piness, I  turn  to  my  long-looked  for  rest  I"  Thenj 
after  fervently  kissing  her  sister,  she  again  turned  to 
the  coffin,  and  exclaimed,  "  We  have  met  at  last  I — 1 
waited  only  for  this  :  to  unite  thy  noble  heart  to  thee 
again,  and  then  I  claim  thy  promise-- at  our  Father's 
hands !"  She  sunk  on  her  knees,  and  clasping  her 
hands  strongly,  in  low  accents  faintly  uttered,  "  Death! 
where  is  thy  sting  ?  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?" 
and  then  ceasing,  seemed  in  earnest  prayer. 

At  this  awful  moment,  the  abbot  of  Inchaffray  ap- 
proached the  king  with  the  iron  box.  "  Before  the 
sacred  remains  of  the  once  champion  of  Scotland,  (>) 
and  in  the  presence  of  his  royal  successor,"'  exciainiod 
the  abbot,  "  let  this  -.aysterious  cofter  of  St.  Fillan's 
be  opened,  to  reward  the  deliverer  of  Scotland  accord- 
ing to  its  intent  1"    ^'  If  it  were  to  contain  the  relics 


406  THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 

of  St.  Fillag  himself,"  returned  the  king,  «  they 
covild  not  meet  a  holier  bosom  than  this!"  and  resting 
the  box  on  the  coffin,  he  unclasped  the  lock  ;  and  the 
Regalia  of  Scotland  was  discovered  1  At  this  sight 
Bruce  exclaimed  in  an  agony  of  grateful  em.otion, 
"  Thus  did  this  truest  of  human  beings  protect  my 
rights,  even  while  the  people  I  had  deserted,  and 
whom  he  had  saved,  knelt  to  him  to  wear  them  all  !'* 

"  And  thus  Wallace  crowns  thee  !"  said  Dunkeld, 
taking  the  diadem  from  its  coffer,  and  setting  it  on  his 
head. 

*'  My  husband,  and  my  king  !"  gently  exclaimed 
Isabella,  sinking  on  her  knee  before  him,  and  clasping 
his  hand  to  her  lips.  Ruthven,  at  this  motion,  took  a 
roll  of  parchment  from  his  breast.  "  I  must  not  be 
the  last  to  bring  a  precious  gift  to  my  sovereign. 
Here,"  added  he,  presenting  the  scroll,  "  I  received 
thig  from  English  envoys  as  I  came  through  Stirling. 
It  contains  honourable  offers  of  peace  from  the  young 
King  Edward." 

"  Hearest  thou  that  ?  my  sweet  cousin,  Helen  !" 
cried  Bothwell,  touching  the  clasped  hands  which 
rested  on  the  coffin.  He  turned  pale,  and  looked  on 
Bruce.  Bruce,  in  the  glad  moment  of  his  joy  at  this 
happy  consummation  of  so  many  years  of  blood,  ob- 
served not  his  glance,  but  in  exulting  accents,  ex- 
claimed, "  Look  up,  my  sister  ;  and  let  thy  soul,  dis- 
coursing with  our  Wallace,  tell  him  that  Scotland  is 
free,  and  Bruce  a  king  !" 

She  spoke  not,  she  moved  not.  Bothwell  raised  her 
clay-cold  face.  "That  soul  is  fled,  my  lord!"  said 
he,  "  but  from  yon  eternal  sphere  they  now  together 
look  upon  your  joys.  Here  let  their  bodies  rest ; 
for  they  lo-'^edin  their  lives,  and  in  their  deaths  they 
shall  not  be  divided  .'" 


THB  END 


NOTES 


TO    THE    SECOND    VOLUME    Of 


THE  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS. 


(a  p.  4.)  The  ruitis  of  this  tower  are  still  visible  ;  and  near  to  theiii 
the  people  of  the  country  point  out  the  place  where  Wallace  en- 
camped his  brave  army. 

(b  p.  6.)  Several  of  these  vaulted  residences  may  now  be  seen  in 
Crawford- iMoore.  Tradition  informs  us  of  the  use  to  which  they 
were  applied.  Not  only  th^  poor  outraged  people  thus  found  shelter 
in  the  bosom  of  their  mother  earth,  but  the  cattle  also. 

(c  p.  10.)  There  are  hills  in  Annandale  and  Clydesdale,  called 
Watches,  where  persons  in  old  times  were  stationed  to  give  different 
signals  appointed  by  their  commanders.  These  notices  were  cDm- 
municated  with  wonderful  rapidity  by  smoke  in  the  day,  and  flame 
at  night. 

(d  p.  24.)  To  throw  a  spear,  was  an  ancient  mode  of  denounciag 
war. 

(e  p.  25.)  Wallace's  rejection  of  King  Edward's  splendid  offers  is 
particularly  noted  by  the  old  British  historians,  and  the  substance  of 
his  answer  is  particularly  recorded. 

(fp.  33.)  Alexano.r  III.  was  killed  in  this  manner  on  the  18th of 
April  1290;  just  seven  years  before  the  consequent  calamities  of  his 
country  made  it  necessary  for  Wallace  to  rise  in  its  defence.  Ho- 
lingshed  gives  a  circumstantial  account  of  Thomas  of  Learmont's 
(or  as  the  translator  o'  Hector  Boetius  names  him,  Thomas  ofEr- 
cikloun)  prophecy  of  this  event. 

(gp.  36.)  The  fine  i-uins  of  Kilchurn-Castle  are  still  to  be  seen  on 
a  rocky  point,  projecting  into  Loch-aM'e.  The  loft^  -Ben-Cruachan 
X'ises  immediately  behind  the  castle  in  stupendous  grandeur. 

(h  p.  43.)  Huntingdon  Tower,  a  castle  of  the  Lords  UuthVen,  in 
the  near  neighbourhood  of  Perth,  is  still  a  fine  structure.  It  consists 
of  two  square  towers  connected  by  other  buildings.  Much  of  it  is  in 
ruins,  but  the  banqueting-hall  is  discoverable.  The  situation  is  de- 
lightful ;  and  every  acre  about  it  is  heroically  consecrated  ground. 

(i  p.  47:3  Thito  or  Tintoc,  signifying  the  hill  of  fire  ;  is  the  last 
gi-eat  mountain  to  the  north  in  Clydesdale.  Its  height  is  about  2260 
feet  from  the  sea. — Not  far  from  it,  at  Biggar,  the  spot  is  shewn 
which  was  Wallace^'s  camp. 

(k  p.  49)  lloycross  (or  King's-cross)  erected  on  the  heath  of 
StanmorCj  (a  stony  tract  of  land  between  Richmondshirc  and  Cum- 
berland) by  William  the  first  of  England,  and  Malcolm  III.  of  Scot- 
land, as  the  boundary  mark  of  their  separate  domains. 

(1  p  56)  The  name  by  which  Patnck  Dunbar,  Earl  ofMarcli,. 
was  tamiiiarty  called. 


400  NOTES, 

(m  p.  81.)  Sir  Colin  Campbell,  surnameJ  More,  (great),  frofl; 
his  extraordinary  valour,  was  the  father  of  Neil  {Campbell,  Lord  ot 
Loch -awe  ;  and  in  memory  of  his  I'enown,  the  head  or  chief  of  his 
family  -w.is  forages  after  distinguished  by  the  title  of  JMack-callan' 
more,  which  means  son  oj  the  great  Colin.  k, 

(n  p.  81.)  John  Cummin.s,  Lord  of  Badenoch  (usually  jC^Ted  the 
Black  Cummin)  married  Marjory,  sister  to  Baliol,  King  of  Scots.  In 
the  year  1290,  Lord  Badenoch  was  one  of  the  competitors  for  the 
crown  as  heir  in  the  seventh  generation,  from  Donald  King  of  Scots. 

(op.  87  )  Brandanes  was  the  distinguishing  appellation  of  the  mi- 
litary followers  of  the  chiefs  of  Bute. 

(p  p.  96.)  The  jealousy  of  the  lords  against  Wallace,  and  the  parti- 
culars of  the  battle  of  Falkirk,  with  his  discourse  Avitli  Bruce  oh  the 
banks  of  the  Carron,  are  well  known  events  in  Scottish  annals  ;  and 
the  writer  of  this  work  has  spared  no  researches  to  bring  the  account 
here  presented  as  near  the  facts  as  possible. 

'(qp.  98  )  William  Sinclair,  the  patriotic  Bishop  of  Dunkeld,  wa? 
brother  to  the  Lord  of  Roslyn. 

(»p.  99.)  Dunipaeis,  means  the  hills  of  peace.  There  are  two  on 
+:he  banks  of  the  Carron  ;  and  are  supposed  to  have  beeji)<  erected  by 
the  Normans  in- some  treaty  with  the  natives.  j^*'" 

(s  p.  113.)  The  lamentations  which  Sir  Williarn/FSVallace  made 
over  the  body  of  Sir  John  Gr.iham  his  faithful  fH|Bnd,  are  recorded 
by  several  historians  ;  and  this  epitaph  is  still  e^^nt  on  that  warri- 
or's grave  in  the  chui'ch  of  Falkirk. — The  Engliph  of  it^jl^^is  : 

*'  Here  Hqs  jGraham,  slain  in  battle  by  the  Ei^lish  ;  jfic  was  strong 
r,  mind  antibody;  and  was  the  faithful  frierfd  [Achates]  of  Wal-- 
ice." 

Not  far  from  Graham's  tomb,  i.^  buried  -John  Stewart  Lord  ofButC: 
and  brother  to  the  Steward  of  Scotland,  from  whom  the  royal  family 
of  tliat  name  descended.  His  gr;ivo  is  mai'ked  by  a  plain  stone' 
without  any  inscription.  ' 

(t  p.  1-2.1.)  The  family  of  (kniimins  was  so  powerful  and  numei'ous, 
t.hat  an  ipcredible  number  ot  chiettains  of  that  name  attended  the 
Srs^  p-^rliament  which  Robert  I.  held  at  Dunstaffnage  Castle.  The 
relationsliip  between  the  heiress  of  Strathearn  and  that  family,  was 
very  rear;  her  paternal  grand-mother  having  bjen  the  daughter  o^ 
:^Loid  Baiienoch. 

(Vp*.139.)  I»  "ommeraoration  of  the  victory  which  this  ancienf- 
'^cottish  prino-e^btai'ned  over  the  Britons  before  the  christian  era, 
he  field  of  conqvieVft  has  ever  alter  been  called  llutherglen. 

(^'  p.  159.)  A  senachie  (oi-  bard)  was  an  indispensable  appendage 
of  rank  in  every  noble  Scottish  fami!}'. — The  senachie  always  slept 
)fi  his  lord's  apartment.  "■,  ^ 

(w  p.  I4i).)  This  round  tower  (or  keep)  is  the  only  par^  of  tbs 
^astle  of  Durham  in  any  good  preservation.  ^^ 

(x  p.  146.)  These  speeches  are  historically  true,  as  is  alsoftlie  after- 
'reatmentoflEdward  to  the  Earl  of  ('arrick. 

■  (yp.  151.)  It  is  a  superstition  with  the  lower  orders  in  the  north. 
that  when  a  man  i.s  going  to  die,  some  of  his  friends  see  his  jippara*- 
•tion,  which- th'.y  cull  his  ivraith,  and  they  say  it  often  appears  in  the 
presence  «)f  ll.c-  doomed  person. 

(zp.  iG'j  I  The  T'cmnins  of  this  curious  subterraneous  passage  are 

t  to  he  s^-cu  ;  l)ut  parts  of  them  arc  now  broken  in  upon  by  ^\ater^^_ 
.,iid  there}bi*c  tlie  communication   between  Durham  and  Fincklay  h 
tvjw  ^tit  oil".    Many  strange  legends  arc  told  of  this  passage. 


14  DAY  USE 

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